it's no complex memento, it's no subtle revealing

It's meme time!

corchen — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 21:10:12 GMT

The Hypothetical AU Meme: Take any one of the fandoms you know I write/rec/read AND give me a type of AU (space opera AU, pirate AU, superhero AU, etc) or another time period (Ancient Rome, Regency England, etc). I will then explain the gist of the story I would write for that AU.

You never know, I might suddenly find myself inspired...

'Strange Bedfellows' (1/1) - Warehouse 13-Sanctuary, HG/Myka, PG

corchen — Sun, 17 Jul 2011 21:29:16 GMT

Title: ‘Strange Bedfellows'
Author: corchen
Rating: PG for some violence.
Word count: 10,874
Pairing/Characters: Helena/Myka, Helena Magnus, Ashley Magnus
Summary: While in France investigating a spate of strange deaths, Helena and Myka run into Helen and Ashley Magnus - both Helena and Helen have some explaining to do...
A/N: Written for the International Day of Femslash 2011 for the prompt 'Helena and Myka run into the Sanctuary team on an artifact retrieval. Helen and Helena are surprised to see each other again 100+ years later.'
A/N 2: Because I'm trying to canon-smoosh here and I've only managed to watch the first season of Sanctuary, the time-lines are going to be a little off. Imagine that this is set post-Season Two of W13 (but of course ignoring the travesty that was Buried and Reset), and somewhere in the middle of Season One of Sanctuary. I've also never visited that particular part of France, so I'm sure I got all sorts of things wrong. Research can only go so far. Any speech in italics is in French.
Disclaimer: They’re not mine, unfortunately, but I only smudged them a bit and I’ll wipe them down and put them back when I’m done with them.

***

19th June, 1767
Beal Ravine, Margeride Mountains, France

Young Jean Chastel clutched the musket in trembling fingers, making a silent prayer for steady hands and a true aim. He had trained for this moment all of his life, he could not fail his obligation now. He took a deep breath, and began to pray out loud, reciting an ancient supplication for strength against evil. His brother joined him, lending his voice to Jean's and they drew strength from each other, their voices ringing steadily out across the ravine where the Beast had committed it's last atrocity.

Then he realised that his brother was no longer reciting with him but had instead fallen silent and was staring with wide eyes at a spot over Jean's shoulder. Slowly, Jean turned, raising the musket as he did so. There, not ten feet away, standing in a gap in the bushes, stood the Beast. It was the size of a small horse, bigger than any wolf should grow, and it's fur stood in greasy clumps on it's body, matted with blood from the failed attempts on its life. Its lips were pulled back from its huge fangs in a silent snarl, and Chastel knew that his aim must be true now or this would be the last sight he would ever see.

"You will kill no more," he whispered, and it seemed that the Beast heard him for it gathered itself up for a mighty leap.

It sprang, and Chastel fired, and although the Beast leapt through the air and knocked him down, it was a corpse that pinned him to the ground. The Beast would terrorise Gévaudan no more.

***

Present Day
Just outside Univille, South Dakota, USA

"Artie, man, ping on the weird-shit-o-meter."

Claudia wheeled her chair sideways so that Artie could see her computer screen. She'd finally ironed out all of the kinks in her automated retrieval system - figuring out the weighting for National Enquirer stories had been a bitch, considering that sometimes they got things right - and this one had 'Warehouse' written all over it.

'Beast of Gévaudan Strikes Again'

Citizens of France's Lozère department have taken to locking their doors at night and venturing out only between the hours of dawn and dusk due to a recent spate of vicious murders - murders which bear more than a passing resemblance to the famed legend of the Beast of Gévaudan - a werewolf that terrorised the very same area of France in the Eighteenth Century. Does the Beast walk again? Our cryptozoology expert explains on page 7!

The rest of the article went on to detail how several bodies had been found in the area around Marvejols, site of many of the attacks attributed to the Beast of Gévaudan. The bodies bore marks similar to those left by wolf attacks – but no wolf had a bite the size of the wounds found. Sceptics claimed that these attacks were obviously the work of wolves that had escaped from the nearby 'Parc du Gévaudan', a wilderness park housing almost a hundred wolves, but had been unable to explain why the bite marks were so immense. Claudia's peremptory search of the database had turned up several artefacts that could explain the murders, from Russian wolfskin girdles to Dr Jekyll's potion – although she thought that the site of the murders did point rather more towards a 'werewolf' artefact.

"That certainly looks like one of ours," Artie nodded, patting her absent-mindedly on the head. "Well done. I'll see what I can find out from the autopsy reports but it looks like a trip to France is in order - I don't suppose any of you speak French?"

"I do," Myka said, looking up. "Badly, but it's better than nothing."

"It'll have to do," Artie said with a shrug. "I'm sure we can co-opt an interpreter if need be, although I'd rather not have to bring an outsider in on a Warehouse case."

He was interrupted by Helena's laconic drawl as she leaned back in her chair, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced over at him.

"Actually, you won't have to," she told him, rather smugly, he thought. "I lived in Paris for quite some time and whilst I suppose that my French is as archaic as my English was when I first... awoke, it will do quite well. If you have no objections?"

Artie could not, unfortunately, think of any objections, so he settled for a shrug, and the observation that perhaps the autopsy reports would show that this was just more Enquirer nonsense. Helena hid a smile behind her hand, but shot Myka an impish wink once Artie's back was safely turned. Myka shook her head and tried to look stern but she never could resist Helena when she was being impish, and she relented with one of the wide smiles that Helena loved to see.

France! Helena hoped that there would be time around the investigation to show Myka some of her favourite parts of the country. France was full of so much history, it couldn't possibly all have disappeared in a scant hundred years. After all, many of her favourite London haunts had still been there, albeit wearing new clothes. The original body had been there, once you could see past all the new glitz and glamour.

***

It had been an exhausting journey, with two changes of plane – the second one had been very tight indeed and they had found themselves running through the airport to make their third flight. At least they had the connections to have the plane held for them, even if they had incurred the wrath of the other passengers. Myka had slept on every leg of the journey – Helena found it harder to do so. She still found it a thrilling experience to be travelling so fast, so high up in the air – she would never take for granted the amazing advances that mankind had made in such a short time. Every day, it seemed, she discovered some new aspect of life that made her stop and blink in amazement. She would probably still be encountering such things if she were to live for another hundred years.

Myka was very sweet when she slept. Her face lost that guarded expression she so often wore when she was awake and in repose she looked almost innocent. Her lips were slightly parted and there was a strand of hair lying across her mouth, shifting lightly with every breath that she took. Carefully, Helena reached over to move it and as her fingers brushed Myka's face her nose wrinkled and she shifted in her sleep, half raising a hand to brush Helena's fingers away. Then she yawned and snuggled further down under her thin airline blanket.

Helena caught herself in a yawn too and she slid a little further down in her own seat, pulling her blanket up to her chin. It was chilly in the cabin, and it was black outside the thick windows – she wouldn't miss anything by sleeping, and she should try to be rested for their arrival. They still had several hours drive once they finally landed in France before they reached their destination, it would be as well to try and get some sleep. If she could sleep – this pane was much smaller than the others had been, seating only sixteen people, and it felt a lot less safe than the others had. Still, maybe she was tired enough to sleep...

It was light outside when the plane touched down, waking Helena from her deep sleep with a start as the wheels touched down onto the runway and the plane bounced slightly before settling onto the ground. Helena found that she was gripping the arm-rest in between their seats as she tried to calm the pounding of her heart. She had never been fond of sudden awakenings at the best of times, and awakening to feel as if you had just dropped out of the sky – or rather, to feel that you had in fact dropped out of the sky – did not rank among her favourite ways to wake up. Myka was still fast asleep. Helena grinned, before she set about waking the other woman.

Myka was still not entirely awake when they made it out of the airport, rubbing blearily at her eyes with one hand and clutching a large paper cup of coffee with the other as if it contained the elixir of life itself. Which, Helena thought to herself with no small amount of amusement, it probably did. Helena had both of their bags, her own duffle balanced on top of Myka's small wheeled case. Myka had been too out of it to object when Helena had taken her bag and steered her towards the coffee stand, although Helena suspected that state of affairs wouldn't last long. Myka was fiercely independant, something which she admired but which could on occasion be extremely irritating. Besides, her motive wasn't entirely selfless – Myka would be driving them for the remainder of their journey, and Helena had no wish for her to fall asleep behind the wheel of the car.

It took two cups of coffee before Myka was awake enough to drive – and she then insisted that Helena get into the back and sleep while she drove them to their final destination. Helena protested – but Myka prevailed. She usually did where Helena was concerned. It was pathetic, really.

“The shadows under your eyes have shadows,” Myka told her. “I know you didn't really sleep on the plane, and I did – I'm fine now that I've woken up properly. Take a nap in the back and that way we'll both be functional when we get to Marvejols. I need you awake – my French is atrocious.”

“Your accent certainly is,” Helena murmured, smiling sweetly at Myka's petulant scowl. “But you don't need me here – aside from the accent, your French is fine. Why did you tell Artie it was so awful?”

She settled herself into the back of the car, folding her coat into a comfortable cushion behind her head and unzipping her boots. Her feet were feeling hot and swollen after so long in a cramped airline seat. She remembered the days of railway sleeper cabins fondly – why couldn't airplanes have a similar arrangement?

“Honestly?” Myka asked, pulling out of the rental carpark. “Because I already knew that your French is flawless, and that Artie still needs an excuse to send you on missions.”

Helena sighed, closing her eyes against the bright morning sun that was shining onto her face. Would she ever really be a member of the team?

“It's just Artie being stubborn,” Myka continued, when Helena remained silent. “He doesn't really have a problem with you any more – he just doesn't like to admit that he was wrong about you. He'll come around.”

“I just wish he would 'come around' a little faster,” Helena admitted drowsily, half-asleep already in warm sun.

Myka glanced into the rearview mirror and smiled at Helena's closed eyes, her face already relaxing into sleep. It wasn't often that she got to see Helena unguarded. For all that Helena's emotions often showed on her expressive face, there was an element of guardedness to her. She might seem open, but Myka knew that anything that showed was only visible because Helena allowed it to be. There were many aspects to her that did not show on her face – and this unguarded vulnerability was one of them.

***

Myka enjoyed the drive through the quiet French countryside, the early-morning sun lending a stark crispness to the landscape that emphasised its beauty. They were heading higher up into the Margeride mountain range and with every turn of the narrow road the vistas that stretched out became more breath-taking. When the road took a turn around the head of a valley and the full breadth of the landscape became visible, she couldn't help but stop the car. They'd been driving for almost two hours and were very near to their destination – it wouldn't hurt to stop for a moment. She pulled over to the side of the road and parked, getting out of the car and leaning on the hood, just taking in the scenery.

The sky was a brilliant, clear blue, stretching almost unbroken from horizon to horizon, with only a few small, high, starykly white clouds to break its span. The vibrant blue was refelcted just a shade darker in the small lake that huddled at the bottom of the valey, surrounded by heath that was yellow-green in the sun, its grass dried to a buttery shade by the summer heat. Here and there the heath was broken by great grey granite boulders that hulked, solemn and silent, casting deep shadows over the grass. On the far side of the lake was a woodland, green and cool looking.

“It's lovely, isn't it?”

Myka jumped – she hadn't heard Helena getting out of the car, she had been so distracted by the beauty of the scene in front of her. Helena smiled at her as she took up a spot leaning on the hood of the car, so close to Myka that their shoulders brushed together and Myka could feel the loose waves of Helena's hair tickling her bare upper arm.

“Beautiful,” she agreed, and they both remained silent, neither of them wanting or needing to spoil the moment with words.

Finally, by some silent mutual decision, they both returned to the car, Helena taking up the passenger seat this time. Myka didn't object – Helena had slept soundly while they drove, and they would reach their destination in less than half an hour.

***

“What do you mean, the bodies have already been autopsied? We had been informed that the latest victims be held pending our investigation. Well, I would appreciate it if you could provide us with more specifics, thank you.” Helena gave an exasperated sigh as the young woman on the desk excused herself to go and find out what exactly had happened, and turned to Myka.

“It seems as if the bodies have already left the premises, although I couldn't find out why or with whom,” she explained. “They have perfectly adequate facilities here.”

Myka had been able to follow the conversation for the most part, but Helena's French became very rapid when she was agitated and the girl she had been talking to had an accent that Myka found hard to understand, so she was grateful for the translation. She was just as confused as Helena, though. While the deaths were obviously not in their jurisdiction in any way, the French police had seemed more than happy to hold the bodies for them – the situation was very confusing.

They didn't have to wait very long for an answer.

“A team of specialists flew in from America just this morning to perform the autopsy on the latest victims – we could not hold the bodies for you, I am very sorry. I can give you contact details for the specialists though – I am sure they will be happy to help.”

She handed Helena a printout with an address in town and a few names and telephone numbers. Helena glanced down at the page, and frowned. No – it had to be a co-incidence.

“Helena?” Myka touched her arm, a concerned look on her face. Helena had gone as white as a sheet for a moment there. “Are you alright?”

Helena shook herself, handing the paper to Myka. “I'm absolutely fine, thank you. Just a touch of déjà vu.”

Myka cocked her head and eyed Helena quizzically, but the other woman did not seem inclined to elaborate, so after a moment she shrugged, and headed back to the car. The address on the paper was on the other side of town, but it wouldn't take them long to get there. As she drove, she continued stealing looks at Helena, who was still frowning slightly and staring out of the window with a distant look on her face. Myka was sure that whatever she was seeing, it wasn't the beautiful French architecture.

She knew better than to try and draw Helena out of her shell when she was in that sort of introspective mood, though. Helena would never tell her what was going on in her head, and things always seemed strained if she pushed it – it was better to just let her work it out on her own, however much Myka wanted Helena to just let her help. By the time they made it across town and pulled up outside the address they had been given, Helena seemed to have shaken off her odd mood, and was cheerful again, although there still seemed to be some tension in the set of her shoulders.

“It doesn't look like any kind of scientific facility,” Myka said, looking up at the nondescript house with confusion. “This is a residential neighbourhood.”

It was a large house, old, made of the local granite with a high fence hiding the garden, although there were mature trees showing over the top of the fence, and a two-car garage set a little way aside from the house. There was no sign of life – aside from the car and motorbike parked outside, there was no sign that anyone might be in. In fact, most of the windows were shuttered – the house had an air of 'do not approach' that was a little foreboding.

“Well, we should see if anyone's home, I suppose,” Myka said, after several minutes had passed with neither of them moving.

Helena didn't say anything, but she did open the car door and move towards the house. Myka blinked at her, then shrugged, and followed her. Helena was in a very odd mood today, it would seem. The strangest things could trigger her mercurial mood changes, though – Myka was perplexed by almost all of them, so this really wasn't anything new.

Helena pressed the door buzzer and moved a little to one side to allow Myka to join her on the door step. She was tapping the toe of her boot, and if Myka didn't know better she would say that she was nervous. But Helena Wells was never nervous.

Eventually, just when they were about to give up, the door was opened by a young blonde wearing more tight black leather than strictly necessary, who stood in the doorway, blocking their view into the house, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Yes?” Her tone wasn't quite rude, but it narrowly skirted it. She was also obviously American, so at least they had the right address.

Myka held up her badge, and the girl rolled her eyes.

“Great. Just what we needed. I guess you'd better come in. I'll get Mom.” She opened the door to let them in, steering them towards the front room. “I'll be back in a minute.”

She was actually back in closer to ten minutes, and Helena and Myka were about to go looking for her, when she came back into the room followed by a dark-haired older woman who came up short just as she entered the room, staring at Helena. Helena was equally taken aback, and Myka exchanged a confused look with the girl, who shrugged at her. Obviously she had no idea either. Helena broke the silence first.

“Helen Magnus. I saw the name but I thought that it had to be a co-incidence.”

“Helena,” the other woman said, visibly composing herself and offering a smile. “What an... unexpected surprise.”

“I could say the same,” Helen countered. “I think you have some explaining to do.”

“Mom? What's going on? Who is she?” Myka was pleased that the girl had asked, because she was just about to do the same and she wasn't sure if she would get a straight answer out of Helena. Perhaps this 'Helen Magnus' would be more forthcoming.

“Ashley, I'd like you to meet H.G. Wells. Helena, this is my daughter, Ashley. Helena and I knew each other in London in eighteen eighty-four – she was auditing classes at the School of Science and I was invited to lecture. Helena had one of the most brilliant minds in the room and yet she wasn't allowed to do anything more than attend lectures. Tragic.”

“I think that you had the most brilliant mind in the room actually, Helen,” Helena interjected with a smile.

Myka was staring at Helen now, utterly confused. There was no way that this woman was older than Helen. Unless there was an artefact involved. There must be. Which meant that really, she needed to find out what it was and probably confiscate it. Although it wasn't what they had been sent to look for, so maybe... And how was she mixed up in this, anyway? It was all very suspicious.

“Okay, so how come she's still alive? Was she one of the--” Helen cut Ashley off in the middle of the sentence with a swift shake of her head and a warning look.

“No – I don't know how she's here. I think Helena has some explaining to do, although I have an inkling of what might have been involved.”

Helena bit her bottom lip, and took a deep breath.

“Actually, Dr Magnus, I think you have some explaining to do,” Myka interrupted, when it looked as if Helena was about to reveal things that were not meant to be revealed. Helen laughed.

“You don't need to be so secretive, I know all about Helena's involvement with the Warehouse, and I assume that's why you're here.”

Myka blinked, and Helena shrugged.

“I was never a part of Warehouse Twelve,” Helen continued, “but I did consult for them on occasion, before I branched out on my own. You see, whilst your specialty is the peculiar objects of the world, mine is the peculiar beings.”

Myka was still very confused. Beings? What was she talking about? Helen sighed.

“I see that man is as stubborn as ever. If I had known that Mr Nielsen could hold a grudge for quite so long, I would have simply allowed him to think that he was right. I take it he's never told you about my operation?”

Myka shook her head, while Helena seemed intrigued. Apparently she was no wiser than Myka was.

“You see, while there are strange objects in the world that man cannot yet understand, there are also strange beings – mythical beings, you might say, although we refer to them as abnormals. Vampires, werewolves, yetis, they all exist. I founded an international group dedicated to studying, preserving, and at times controlling these abnormals. We call ourselves the Sanctuary. Time was, we worked with Warehouse agents whenever our fields converged, but I'm afraid that a disagreement between Mr Nielsen and myself over whether a certain object fell under his purview or mine has lead to a distressing break in communications. I'd thought it would all have come to a head long before this, frankly, I'm surprsied that it's taken as long as it has.”

While she was speaking, Helen had crossed the room and taken a seat in an armchair across from the couch where Helena and Myka were seated. Ashley was hovering protectively nearby – which was an interesting way to see it, Myka observed. Why was 'protective' the word which came to mind? The girl couldn't be much more than twenty, if she was even that old.

“As for how I'm still here,” Helen continued, “which is a question that I know both of you are dying to ask, I'll say that working at the very forefront of abnormal science is not without it's advantages. Now, Helena, would you care to explain yourself?”

“I,” Helena started, and then paused, giving Myka a look that she had never seen before. It seemed that Helena was pleading with her, silently. Myka was sure that she didn't want this woman - someone she had doubtless looked up to, because if they had met in eighteen eighty-four then Helena would have been a mere eighteen and a female professor must have been a role model to her - to know that she had been subject to a process normally reserved for the very worst criminals.

“She was frozen in time,” Myka interrupted. “Over a hundred years ago. She's only been in this century for a short time.”

The look that Helena gave her was incredibly grateful, and Myka smiled slightly at her. There was no reason to go into any more detail than that.

“Well, we're all introduced,” Helen said, before smiling at Myka. “With the exception of yourself. Helena? Aren't you going to introduce us?”

“Oh!” Helena looked abashed. “Where are my manners. Helen Magnus, this is Myka Bering, a fellow agent. Myka, Helen was, as she said, a professor when I was studying biology but she also became a good friend. Sadly, we lost touch shortly after Christina was born.”

“You always did have a knack of ending up with the most fetching partners,” Helen observed, and Myka was surprised to see Helena blushing. She wondered what stories Helen could tell her about Helena's younger days. “You'll have to be very careful, Agent Bering, this one's a ladykiller. She even tried to seduce me when we first met. She very nearly succeeded as well. If I didn't have a personal rule about sleeping with my students...”

Helena laughed and turned the full force of her sensual smile on Helen. “You can hardly blame me, Helen – I was a teenager and just discovering my sexuality and you were just as beautiful then as you are now. Moreover, you were a woman who was respected in the scientific community. How could I not have fallen a little in love?”

“Do you see?” Helena addressed her remark to Myka, who was consternated to feel a hard knot of jealousy forming in the pit of her stomach. “She is a terrible flirt. Helena, dear, it's not nice to make a lady feel uncomfortable.”

Helena made a noise of disbelief, shaking her head. “You, uncomfortable? You are the most unflappable person I've ever met.”

“I wasn't referring to myself,” Helen corrected, with a wicked grin. “I was talking about your fetching partner, who looks as if she would like an excuse to claw my eyes out.”

Myka's mouth fell open, and Helena raised an eyebrow and fixed her with a contemplative stare. Myka felt heat rising in her cheeks, and knew that she had to change the subject before she made a fool out of herself.

“Well, that explains why you're involved in this case, Dr Magnus. What can you tell us?”

“Why don't I show you?” Helen offered. “I have the two latest victims prepped for autopsy right now, I'd be quite happy for you to observe. You may even spot something that I miss.”

“That would be perfect, thank you,” Myka agreed, relieved that the subject was being dropped – at least for the time being. She coud still feel Helena's eyes on her. This was not over.

***

The bodies – a woman of perhaps thirty and an older man who could have been anywhere between forty and a well preserved sixty - were laid out in the garage, which had been draped with sterile sheeting and made over into a facility that would not have looked out of place in a leading scientific institution. Myka had no idea what most of the machines that were beeping and flashing around the room were. Whoever this 'Sanctuary' group were, they were obviously very well funded.

Two trolleys sat in the middle of the room with bright spotlights focussed on them. Helen must have barely started the autopsy when Myka and Helena arrived, because the woman had a Y-incision in her chest and abdomen, but that was the extent of her work.

“I've measured all of the wounds and the data is on the laptop,” Helen said as she picked up a pair of rubber gloves from the trolley. “I ran comparisons to all known species of large predator, both normal and abnormal. I haven't found an exact match, unfortunately; the tooth pattern seems lupine in configuration but the size of the bite is far larger than any natural wolf. It doesn't match any species of werewolf I'm familiar with either. We're dealing with something strange but whether it's an abnormal or something more in your line of work remains to be seen.”

Helena was poring over the comparisons of bites with fascination while Myka moved over to the cadavers, wrinkling her nose at the strong chemical smell that lingered around them. There was an odd dark staining on the skin around the wounds that had her interested.

“Was that dark staining present before you started?” She asked, and Helen looked up from her probing of the woman's abdominal cavity.

“Dark – oh, I see. No, I swabbed the wounds with a silver nitrate solution as soon as I'd taken photographs of the wounds and measured them. It's better to be safe than sorry – if there was any chance of these bodies getting up again, that should have prevented it. Just in case – I don't know that this wasn't a variety of werewolf attack.”

“Fascinating,” Helena murmured into Myka's ear and she started, not having heard Helena coming up behind her. She was leaning over Myka's shoulder, looking to see what Myka had seen. “Silver is efficacious in any form, then, it doesn't have to be pure?”

“No,” Ashley chirped with a bloodthirsty grin from the other side of the room, where she was sitting wrong-way on a rolling chair, her arms folded across the back rest. “Anything silver-based poisons the vicious bastards. It's quicker with liquids, too, gets into the blood stream faster.”

“Well,” Helena said into Myka's ear, quietly. “In the event that we ever come across a pack of werewolves, that's worth knowning.”

“Indeed,” Myka agreed dryly, moving away to examine the other body.

Helena's warm breath brushing across her sensitive ear had not been conducive to an investigative state of mind. She caught Helen's eye across the body and flushed, looking down. Helena's old professor was far too astute for Myka to be entirely comfortable around her.

“That's odd,” she said after a moment, moving to look at the woman's left hand more closely. “I'm sure that I saw...”

She moved back to the man, and after a moment found what she thought she had seen. No, she hadn't imagined it. There was a marking that looked like a tattoo on the woman's left hand, two curved black lines in the shape of a small crescent moon on the webbing between the thumb and forefinger. The same marking was on the ankle of the other corpse, barely visible as it seemed to be extremely old and faded, blurring into an undistinguished black smudge.

“What do you make of this?”

Helen placed the organ she had just removed from the abdomen of the cadaver down in a kidney bowl and moved to inspect Myka's discovery, holding her gory hands well out of the way. Myka wrinkled her nose. She'd never enjoyed this part of the job. Helena didn't even seem to notice as she bent over to look.

“Well,” Helen said thoughtfully, “the crescent moon would be an obvious werewolf marking, so there seems to be some connection between these poor unfortunates and their manner of death.”

“It's also,” Helena observed, twisting the ankle of the older man to get a better view of his tattoo, “an ancient alchemical symbol for silver. Which could put an interesting spin on this.”

“You think they were hunting the thing that killed them?” Myka asked, and Helena shrugged.

“It's a sensible conclusion to draw. After all, they weren't local, these two, unlike the previous victims – in fact, they're unidentified, aren't they?”

Myka nodded and flipped through the notes on the pair that the French authorities had given them. No-one seemed to have any idea who they were, or even where they were staying.

“Yes,” she said. “John and Jane Doe, or whatever term the French use. And according to this they were both carrying handguns that had been recently fired.”

“Looks like we've got us some rogue werewolf hunters,” Ashley piped up. “Pity we don't know if they had silver ammo. Shall I put some feelers out, Mom, see if anyone knows anything? I don't want to run into any more members of their little gang, if that's what's going on.”

“That would seem wise,” Helen agreed, getting back to her work. “Well, I don't seem to be turning up anything interesting, I'm afraid. I'll let you know if I do find anything, but this could be a long and rather tedious process – there's no need for you to observe. In fact, why don't you two and Ashley see if you can find out anything about our pair of possible hunters? If, of course,” she said, looking up with a rather wry smile on her face, “you have no objection to joining teams. We have the same goal in mind, after all, and anything we find will fall under either your purview or ours.”

Helena raised an eyebrow at Myka, who shrugged. If Helena trusted Helen, and certainly she had seemed to be trustworthy so far, she had no objections. She wasn't so sure about Ashley though – from the few words they had exchanged the girl seemed to be somewhat of a loose cannon. Still, better to have her where they could keep an eye on her.

“I have no objection,” Helena said, and Myka nodded her acceptance.

“Notice no-one asks me,” Ashley muttered under her breath as she rose in a fluid movement from her chair. Her jacket shifted as she did and Myka noticed the tell-tale shape of a pistol in the small of her back, and she raised her opinion of the girl. She had the muscles of an athelete, the poise of a dancer, and assuming that she could use that gun, she could be an asset in the field. Assuming that they ever got into a fight.

“I'm gonna make a few calls, see if I can scare anything up. I'll be right back.” She pulled her pone out of the back pocket of her jeans and headed through the side door of the garage, back into the house.

“Did you keep the clothes?” Myka asked, and Helen pointed with her scalpel to a pile of neatly folded clothes. “May I?” Helen nodded and returned to what she was doing, leaving Myka to shrug and start to go through the clothes. Maybe she would turn something up that the police had missed – which wasn't terribly likely, but you never knew.

“I'm going to call Arthur,” Helena said. “Hopefully he'll be in a good mood.”

“You might want to forgo mentioning me,” Helen told her, not looking up from what she was doing. “We didn't part on the best of terms.”

“That's possibly wise,” Helena agreed. “I think he must have something against Helens. And Helenas. I shall just have to hope that Leena baked those oatmeal cranberry cookies he's so fond of.”

She held out an expectant hand to Myka who stared at her blankly before flushing, and handing over the Farnsworth that she had in her inner pocket. Why did she turn into a complete idiot around Helena? It was embarrassing.

Helena turned away only to catch Helen's gaze. The older woman dropped her a sly wink before returning to her carving, and Helena scowled at the top of Helen's head. That woman was a menace. Rolling her eyes, she fipped open the Farnsworth and called Artie.

“Myka? Oh, Agent Wells. What can I do for you?”

'Agent Wells' was always a bad sign, but aside from that he was being perfectly civil. Perhaps the cookies had been plain oatmeal.

“We've found what could potentially be a couple of werewolf hunters,” Helena said. “Dead, unfortunately, and so far we have no idea who they are. They both have a small tattoo of a crescent moon, just an outline, is there anything in the database?”

While Artie, muttering to himself, searched the computer system, Helena stepped up next to Myka to watch her going methodically through the clothing of the deceased. So far, she didn't seem to have found anything of any note.

“Here,” Artie said, five minutes later. “There are a few unsubstatiated rumours of a werewolf hunting group that was based in France in the Eighteenth Century that used the alchmical symbol for silver as an identifying mark. It was one of their membership who's meant to have killed the Beast of Gévaudan, which is a pretty big co-incidence. That's all I can find though. You think that's what you're looking for? A werewolf?”

He sounded distinclty sceptical, and Helena had to stap herself from rolling her eyes at him. For someone so steeped in mystery and the paranormal, he could be remarkably reluctant to admit the possibilty of some things.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” she said. “We certainly seem to have run into some people who thought that they were. If we can find out who they were we may be able to discover more. Thank you, Arthur, we'll call again as soon as we find anything out.”

“You've seen the autopsy results?” He asked, just as she was about to close the Farnsworth.

“We're there right now,” Helena said. “Nothing of any use, unfortunately – the bite marks don't match any known species, so we're dealing with something strange. We're just not sure what.”

Artie nodded.

“Keep me apprised, Helena,” he said, before looking to the side and giving her an absent wave before shutting off the connection.

“He called you Helena,” Myka observed, and Helena grinned at her.

“So he did,” she agreed. “Which is nice. Have you found anything?”

“No,” Myka said glumly, putting the last piece of clothing down. “Not a thing. And we really do need to find out who these two are, or this investigation is going to grind to a rather frustrating halt.”

“You'll be glad to hear I know who they are, then,” came a smug voice from the doorway, and the three women looked to to see Ashley standing there with a smug look on her face and her phone in her hand.

“Your 'feelers' returned with fruit, I take it?” Helen said, and Ashley smirked.

“Yeah,” Ashely grinned. “Their names are Christien and Sabine Chastel, and we were right, they're werewolf hunters. Their whole family has been for generations. I've got an address for them, and their family is going to claim the bodies.”

“Good work, Ashley,” Helen told her, and Ashley grinned at her mother.

Myka couldn't help nodding, impressed at how quickly the girl had managed to find out something that doubtless would have eluded them for days. They might never have found out the hunter connection. Whatever problem Artie had with the Sanctuary, she thought it was time he dealt with it – they could be extremely useful allies.

“Why don't you three go to the address,” Helen suggested, “while I finish up here? I can join you if I finish before you return.”

“That works,” Ashely nodded, “I'll take my bike and meet you there.”

***

The Chastels had been staying in a run-down farmhouse a few miles outside of the town and when they first pulled up Myka thought that perhaps this was the wrong address. The roof of the farmhouse was sagging dratically and several of the windows were boarded over. The driveway was overgrown with weeds and the gate was hanging off its hinges. But as she slowed outside the gate, Myka noticed recent tire tracks leading around the side of the house.

“Well, this must be it. And there's Ashley's motorcyle – that girl drives like a demon.” Myke stopped the car next to Ashley's motorcyle, and unbuckled her seatbelt.

“It looks like fun,” Helena said as she climbed out of the car. “Perhaps I will look into learning to drive one of those machines.”

“You should,” Ashley said, shaking her hair out as she put her black helmet down on the seat of the bike. “It's fun and besides, you'd look hot in leather. Guys dig the leather.” She glanced at Myka and then winked at Helena. “Girls too.”

Myka flushed, and she wasn't sure whether it was at the insinuation that she would like Helena in leather, or the fact that she was imagining it and the idea was definitely appealing. Helena would look absolutely fabulous in skintight leather. She cleared her throat and shook her head.

“I'm sure that if you want to learn to ride one of those dangerous things then there's nothing stopping you. I'm sure Pete could give you some pointers – or Claudia, for that matter.”

“I shall definitely look into it,” Helena said taking out her modified Tesla and heading towards the side of the house, following the tyre tracks. “But for now, we have a job to do.”

Myka was rather relieved that Helena had changed the subject, and took out her own Tesla and followed her. Ashley had her own handgun out, and when she noticed Myka looking askance at it, she sighed.

“Tranq rounds. The silver clip is in the other one. Happy?”

Myka blinked. She'd totally failed to make the second pistol, and was annoyed with herself for missing it. She was still not seeing it though – where on earth did Ashley have it?

“Yes, fine,” she said. “I'm sure you know what you're doing.” She was sure Ashley did – as soon as they'd reached the farmhouse she'd seen Ashley's demeanour shift from slightly-petulant girl to competant woman. It was impressive.

Helena was peering around the side of the building and, obviously seeing nothing, she motioned to them to follow. The tyre tracks lead to a ramshackle lean-to garage with no doors, which housed an ancient, beaten-up four-by-four. It appeared to be deserted, but they approached carefully.

The vehicle was locked and Myka turned away in frustration, as there was a battered leather wallet on the passenger seat with papers spilling out of it. That was the best lead they had so far, and they couldn't actually get at it.

Until Ashley opened the door. Myka turned back in time to see her slipping a slim piece of metal into her jeans pocket, and sighed. Of course Ashley would be an expert at breaking into cars. She was getting the feeling that respect for the law ranked rather low on Ashley's list of priorities. Which was at this particular moment in time something of an advantage. She pretended she had seen nothing.

“How careless of them to leave a door open,” Ashley said impishly, winking at Helena who simply laughed easily. Ashley leaned across the seats and caught up the wallet, taking it to the hood of the four-by-four and opening it out.

“Right. Let's see what we have here.”

There were pages and pages of hand-written notes, in a cramped, rushed hand – and all in French, of course. Myka realised quickly that she wasn't going to be able to get anything from them without a considerable amount of time, and aimed a questioning look at Helena.

“May I?” Helena aimed the question at Ashley, who shrugged and stepped back.

“Go ahead. My French sucks, yours can't be any worse.”

Helena picked up the sheaf of notes and began to leaf slowly though them, murmuring to herself in French.

“Well, they did think there was a werewolf here,” she said after a few pages. “But not the usual kind, whatever that means. They were looking for a... I'm not familiar with the word, but later on they mention a 'wolf belt' or possibly 'wolf strap', I'm not quite sure. They thought that the Beast – they've been referring to it as that – is a man who can change into a wolf-creature at will.”

She flipped quickly through to the last piece of paper.

“Right. Last thing they wrote, they'd tracked the Beast to the Parc du Gévaudan, that's the wolf sanctuary up in the mountains, and they were going to confront him there. They must have been attacked before they got there though – their bodies weren't found in the parc.”

Myka was grinning at Ashley, who looked pretty pleased herself. This was a fabulous break. It was tragic for the Chastels, of course, but their work meant that Myka and Helena – and Ashley and Helen, of course – should be able to find the Beast and deal with him.

“There's a name.” Helena continued. “Abel Griswold. Which is – yes, he's German. I wonder why he's in France, re-enacting a French werewolf legend.”

“Who cares,” Ashley said. “We still need to deal with him.”

“Non-lethally,” Myka told her sternly, and Ashley gave her a distinctly teenage look.

“Yes, Mom,” she said pointedly. “I'm aware. Bag and tag. Lethal force only if necessary. Yadda yadda.”

Ashley, Myka was rapidly concluding, was a brat.

***

It was late afternoon by the time they finally made it to the Parc du Gévaudan to confront Abel Griswold. The German had come into the country with the parc's most recent influx of wolves, four young females exchanged with the Bialowieza National Park in Poland. At this time of day, he should still be working, and hopefully they would be able to confront him with the minimum of fuss. They timed their arrival for a few minutes before the parc shut, hoping to avoid any visitors.

That was the theory.

Helen called Artie while Myka was driving. When he answered he actually looked pleased to see her, and Helena restrained the impulse to ask Myka to check out of the window for porcine avians.

“Ah, Helena, what do you have for me?”

“We've got a name and an artefact – what can you tell me about a 'wolf strap' or 'wolf belt', probably German, possibly Polish?”

“That sounds familiar,” Artie muttered, pushing his glasses up on his forehead and turning away from the Farnsworth. Helena was treated to an extended view of his left ear while he typed and muttered away. “Here it is. 'Wolf strap. Item used to transform a human into an immense wolf-like creature. Legend says that the wolf strap is given during a pact with the devil in exchange for the wearer's immortal soul. To remove the strap, simply state the wearer's true name and they will return to their natural form.'”

He returned to the Farnsworth and looked around for his glasses. Helena did not point out that they were perched on his forehead.

“I don't suppose you know his name?”

“We have a name,” Helena said, shrugging. “But I don't suppose it's his real name for a moment, not if knowing his name is so powerful. Abel Griswold.”

“Abel – Abel... One moment.” Artie turned away from the Farnsworth again, and Helena could hear him tapping away again. “Thought so!” He exclaimed triumphantly. “Abel or Ubel Griswold was one of the pseudonyms of Peter Stübbe, a man who was convicted and executed for black magic in fifteen eighty-nine. He claimed to have a belt given to him by Satan that turned him into a huge wolf. It's entirely possible that this is the same man – it's worth a try, anyway.”

He finally found his glasses and pushed them up his nose, fixing Helena with a serious expression. “Be careful, Helena. If this man is really the same Peter Stübbe he's going to be extremely dangerous.”

“Don't worry, Arthur,” she told him. “We're quite capable of handling ourselves.” She debated mentioning Helen for a moment, but decided against it. She could tell him after they had dealt with this Abel or Peter or whoever he was.

The two vehicles – Helena and Myka's rented Renault and Helen's oversized Citroen (Ashley had been made to leave her motorcycle behind) pulled into the car-park, which was almost deserted. The few cars still there were all in the employees section, so it seemed that they wouldn't have any members of the public to worry about – just the other parc employees.

All four women convened in the space between the two cars, and exchanged serious nods. They'd agreed on a plan before they'd left for the parc – Myka and Helena would make the first approach, as if they were simply following up the sensible notion that the deaths had something to do with the wolves in the parc. If they could get Abel on his own, they would probe further into his involvement. Helen and Ashley wouldn't be far away.

They all hoped that there would be no actual violence (with the possible exception of Ashley) – but none of them believed that was likely. If Abel – or Peter – was behind all of the deaths, he wasn't likely to come quietly. They were prepared for a fight. Besides their Teslas, Helena and Myka both also had silver bullets, provided by Helen, although Helen and Helena both thought that the Tesla might prove an even more effective weapon. Helen and Ashley were carrying both silver and tranquilliser rounds.

“Ready?” Myka asked Helena, who nodded.

“Be careful, Myka,” she said as they started to walk towards the parc office. “I don't mean to say that you're not one of the most capable agents I've ever worked with but – well. Please, be careful.”

“Always,” Myka told her with a small smile. Then they were at the office, and Myka gestured for Helena to go in first.

”Good afternoon,” she said to the young woman behind the reception desk with a polite smile. ”Agents Helena Wells and Myka Bering, we're investigating the recent deaths – we were hoping to speak to one of your colleagues. Apparently you brought in several new wolves just before the attacks began – we'd just like to rule them out in our investigation.” Helena's expression and tone were light and non-threatening – if Abel thought that they had no idea of his involvement he would be more likely to go with them. Overconfidence would, they hoped, be his downfall.

”Would you like to speak with M Griswold? He's the keeper in charge of settling those animals – I'm sure he can clear everything up for you,” came the answer, and Helena treated the young receptionist to one of her brilliant smiles.

”That would be perfect, thank you very much. If you could just let us know where he is I'm sure that we can find him – there's no need to take him away from his duties.”

“At this time of day he should be checking the perimeter of their enclosure – those four are still in quarantine, of course. It's not very far – if you go through the back door and follow the path around to the right, you'll come to a large enclosure after about half a mile, it's quite clearly marked. M Griswold will be there – I'll radio ahead and let him know to expect you.”

“Thank you, we appreciate it.”

While the receptionist raised Abel Griswold on the parc's radio system, Helena and Myka headed through the reception area towards the back door. Helen and Ashley would trail them once they got inside the parc, keeping out of sight. They needed as many advantages over Griswold as they could get.

“So far, so good,” Myka said. “This feels much too easy though – I really don't think this one is going to fall into our laps, do you?”

“No,” Helena admitted, shaking her head. “No, if we're really dealing with a five-hundred-year-old satanic werewolf, I definitely don't. But we have a few aces up our sleeves that he doesn't know about. I'm – what's the phrase? Quietly confident?”

“That's the one,” Myka agreed. “This place is lovely, isn't it? I'd rather have visited it under more auspicious circumstances though.”

“As would I,” Helena smiled. “Perhaps we can come back after we've dealt with this, if it doesn't end in disaster, and pretend we're tourists?”

“I'd like that,” Myka grinned. “I haven't had a real holiday in far too long.”

“I am not sure that a half-day in a nature park counts as a holiday,” Helena told her. “When this is over, why don't we see if we can take a couple of days leave? I'd love to show you Paris.”

“That would be wonderful,” Myka said shyly, blushing faintly. Paris, the most romantic city in the world, with Helena? She wasn't sure if it would be paradise or torture – or perhaps both at the same time.

“I shall consider that a promise,” Helena told her, before coming to a halt.

In front of them was a twelve-foot high chain-link fence, a gap of eight feet, and a second fence. The outer fence was hung with warning signs denoting it as a quarantine area. Inside, there was rough scrub and bare earth, a small shed, and four wolves lazing in the late sunshine. The smallest raised her head and eyed them curiously before yawning widely, showing off sharp, white teeth and a long curling tongue. She dropped her head back onto her paws but they could see the glint of her eyes still watching them from below half-lowered lids.

“Okay, being stared at by a wolf is kinda creepy,” Myka muttered.

Then, in unison, all four wolves lifted their heads and looked along the fence, their body language expectant, eager even. Their tails thumped slightly on the ground, and Helena nudged her arm and pointed in the direction the wolves were staring. Coming towards them was a craggy-looking man who appeared to be around fifty, sporting a short, salt and pepper beard and grey hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. He was wearing a dirty t-shirt that pulled tight across his chest so that they could see his muscles flexing as he walked, and tight blue jeans. He was a powerful figure of a man.

”M Griswold?” Helen asked, pleasantly, as he drew nearer to them.

“You're the American agents?” He replied, in barely-accented English.

“Yes,” Myka said, “we were hoping to talk to you about your wolves. I'm sure you know about the recent deaths – we just want to clear them of any involvement.”

“Well, as you can see,” he said, with a wide smile that exposed teeth that seemed too sharp, “they're not going anywhere.”

“Indeed,” Helena drawled. “As they weren't involved, perhaps you might have an idea of who was?” She raised an eyebrow, and Griswold looked from Myka to Helena and back, a confused look on his face.

“Me? Why should I know anything?”

“We know about the belt, Mr Griswold,” Myka said.

His expression changed at that, from confusion to a devilish grin that changed the pleasant lines of his face into something far more sinister. Myka felt a cold prickle run up her spine, and took a step backwards.

“How unfortunate,” he said, grin getting wider by the moment. “For you, that is.”

Then he snarled, a sound that no human throat should have been able to produce, and the words that came spilling out of his mouth next were strange and contorted, unnatural sounding. Then he leapt. One second, there was a man standing there – the next, an immense black wolf-like figure, as tall as the man had been, was bunching itself up and launching itself through the air towards Myka, snarling, huge fangs bared.

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

Myka's Tesla was half-drawn but before she could fire off a shot the beast had knocked her backwards and it's teeth were fastened into her shoulder. Helena didn't have time to think. It was perhaps best that she didn't because if she had been thinking, her fear for Myka would have paralysed her.

“Peter Stübbe!” She yelled, firing her Tesla at the same time, over the sound of Myka's anguished scream.

As Helena yelled and Myka screamed two gunshots sounded out from the woods close by, and where one moment Myka had been fighting off a huge black creature now the limp body of a man was draped over her. Desperately, Helena heaved the man – Abel, Peter, whoever the hell he was, she didn't care and if Myka was seriously hurt she was going to shoot him again and it wouldn't be with tranquilliser bullets or the Tesla – off Myka's unmoving body.

Her neck and shoulder was a mess of blood and torn flesh and Helena frantically pulled off her jacket, rolling it into a tight ball and pressing it down onto the wound.

“Myka! Oh Christ, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” Her hands were being pushed away and she fought to keep them where they were before she realised that it was Helen who was trying to intervene.

“Helena. Helena!” She took a deep breath and met Helen's calm, steady gaze. “Call for an ambulance. Now. Ashley will deal with him, I'll do what I can here, but she needs an ambulance.”

Helena nodded, trying to calm the shaking of her hands. Oh God, her hands, she was covered in Myka's blood. But she needed to be steady now, couldn't fall apart. Somehow, she managed to dial and request medical assistance, giving out their address and details. When she hung up, Helen was still busy, and she looked worried. That couldn't be good.

Ashley had secured their prisoner, who was, damn him, still breathing – she'd unthreaded his belt from his jeans, and now she was offering Helena his radio. Helena looked blankly at her.

“They must have first aid facilities here in case of wolf attack,” Ashley said impatiently. “And I don't speak decent French! You need to call for help.”

Helena snatched for the radio with even a word of thanks, and she didn't even hear Ashley's sarcastic 'you're welcome'. She was far too worried. Myka had to be ok. She couldn't envision coping in this world without her. Myka was the only thing that had been keeping her sane – without her, she might as well just step back into the bronzer.

***

Paris, France
Three days later

“Not quite what I had in mind when I suggested Paris,” Myka said weakly, and Helena smiled and patted her hand.

Once Myka had been stabilised, she had been transferred to a specialist facility in Paris for reconstructive surgery on her neck and shoulder – the bite had torn through some major muscles but she'd been assured that with physical therapy and rest she would be back to normal in no time – not that Myka thought that the time frame they had given her was 'no time'.

“Nor me,” Helena agreed ruefully. “I'm so sorry I didn't act faster, Myka. This could all have been avoided.”

“Don't be silly,” Myka told her sternly, trying to sit up and collapsing back onto her pillows with a pained expression. “You saved my life, Helena. Without your quick action he would have done far more damage. I don't know how to thank you.”

“You don't need to,” Helena said softly, stroking the hand she still held in hers. “Myka, if I'd lost you...”

She looked away, unable to meet Myka's eyes. She couldn't begin to think what she would have done, it hurt too much. To have lost her without ever really admitting how she felt – it was unthinkable. But she couldn't tell her now, not when Myka was weak and vulnerable and feeling in her debt – it just wouldn't be fair. She bit her lip.

“Helena.” She felt Myka's fingers curling around hers and looked back to her, to see Myka's lips curved in a sweet smile, and a strange expression in her eyes. “I never want to lose you either.”

Helena's breath caught in her throat for a moment, and then she returned Myka's smile. Perhaps she could tell her sooner than she thought. Not now, though. Such declarations deserved a more romantic setting than a hospital bed, even if it did have a view over the rooftops of Paris.

“You will not lose me,” she promised, squeezing Myka's fingers. “I swear it.”

***

Just Outside Univille, South Dakota
Same time

“Arthur Nielsen, will you never change?”

Artie scowled at Helen Magnus, who had delivered the wolf strap to the Warehouse as Myka and Helena were still in France and would be for some days longer while Myka recuperated.

“Can we just put this behind us? This debacle amply proved just why the Sanctuary and Warehouse need to, if not work together at least share information. We have Peter Stübbe safely locked away and the wolf strap is stored in your facility.”

“Fine,” Artie allowed, grumpily having to admit that she was right. “Fine, we'll keep you in the loop if anything comes up that looks like you could help. Even if I still say that dragon egg belongs in the Warehouse.”

“And if it hatches?” Helen asked, sweetly. “No, I think it's quite safe where it is. Don't worry, we're taking very good care of it.”

Artie scowled and muttered something unintelligible. Helen just smiled sweetly at him.

“Actually, don't change, Arthur,” she told him, chuckling quietly. “Goodbye – and take care. And take care of Helena for me – she's a very dear friend.” Her expression changed to utter seriousness with that last statement.

“Agent Wells can take care of herself,” he said grumpily.

“I'm sure that 'Agent Wells' can,” Helen said. “But I was talking about Helena. The woman who has been wrenched out of her own time and finds herself somewhere completely alien. This is hard for her, Arthur – she could use your support.”

“Well, she has it,” Artie said, gruffly. “I'll admit I didn't trust her, but... Well... Perhaps I was wrong.” He had taken his glasses off and was polishing them, refusing to meet Helen's gaze. Admitting her was wrong was not something he did with particularly good grace.

“Thank, Arthur,” Helen said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. Artie blushed. “It means a lot to me.”

“You're welcome,” he said. “Now get out of my Warehouse! I have work to do.”

Helena sketched a mocking salute at Artie's already-turned back, and let herself out of the office. It would be good to be connected to the Warehouse again – especially now that Helena Wells was back. She wondered if that pretty agent, the one who was so painfully obviously in love with Helena, had any idea what she was letting herself in for. Probably not – but it would be fun watching her finding out.

IDF 2011

corchen — Fri, 27 May 2011 12:13:12 GMT

In honour of the fourth International Day of Femslash, I'm running a Warehouse 13 ficathon. The rules are very simple.

You have until Friday June 3rd to commit to the ficathon and submit your prompts - I'll send prompts out over the weekend, and then you have until July 15th so send me your finished fic/s, and I'll post everything on the 16th, for a massive outpouring of W13 femslash. Because I know you guys are all going to join in, right? Right. Minimum word-count is 2,000 words, but feel free to go as far over as you like! Also, if you;d like to commit to write more than one fic, you can submit extra prompts for each extra fic you're committing to (should you find that you finish your fic/s early and want some more prompts, just let me know)

When submitting your prompts, please use the following format, and leave as a comment to this post - all comments are screened so that no-one knows whose prompts they're getting - I'll reveal that when I post the fics!

Number of fics I'm committing to:
Pairings I'm prepared to write: (If you have strong preferences, let me know. This is not restricted to any one W13 pairing, all the girls are fair game!)
Rating of fic I can write: (PG, 15, NC-17, etc. If you prefer any particular rating, let me know)
Situations/tropes I enjoy writing: (Just so I can try and pair people up with prompts they'll enjoy!)
Anything I can't write: (If you have squicks/triggers/just something you don't think you write well, let me know)
My prompts: (three prompts for every fic you're committing to write! So if you're committing to one, you can give three prompts - if you're writing two, six prompts, and so on. Prompts can be as long as you like, but try and leave the writer who gets your prompt plenty of wriggle-room, it's not much fun to write something that's already completely plotted-out!
How to contact me: Email address, lj-message... Just let me know.

'Sometimes, a Cigar is Just a Cigar' (2/3) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, NC-17

corchen — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 21:46:46 GMT

Title: ‘Sometimes, a Cigar is just a Cigar’
Author: corchen
Rating: This is the NC-17 part I’m sure all of you perverts have been waiting for ;)
Word count: 3,519
Pairing/Characters: Helena/Myka
Summary: Helena’s ‘little friend’ has very definite ideas about what should happen next.
A/N: If anyone hasn’t cast their vote on the ‘to spawn or not to spawn’ question, now’s your chance!
Disclaimer: They’re not mine, unfortunately, but I only smudged them a bit and I’ll wipe them down and put them back when I’m done with them.

(Part One)

***

“Hey, Helena,” Myka’s voice was soft, shy. She didn’t sound angry, so that was at least a start.

“Good evening, darling,” Helena said cautiously. She wanted to ask Myka whether she had heard anything, but what if she hadn’t? Then she would know that there was something to have heard. Well, she had to know.

“Did you--”
“I’m sorry, I--”

They both spoke at once, and laughed uncomfortably.

“Sorry, Helena, what did you want to say?”

“No, please, you first.” Hopefully that would clear up the issue of whether or not she had heard anything.

“I, um. I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have been listening, but I overheard what you and Claudia were talking about.”

Well. There were her worst fears realised. Just how much had she heard?

“I see,” she said, guardedly, waiting for Myka to continue.

“Well - look, can we go talk in my room? Or yours, whichever you prefer. I doubt you want anyone else hearing about your, um, problem.”

“Yes, that would be better,” Helena agreed. Well, it would seem that she knew about the penis. How much worse could it be? Unless she’d been there for long enough to have heard Helena’s confession of attraction...

They made their way to Myka’s room in silence, Helena clenching and unclenching her hands nervously by her sides, Myka looking... remarkably calm, actually. Once they were inside, Myka closed the door and sat down on the end of her bed. Helena hovered uncertainly, not sure what to do with herself.

“Oh, sit down, please,” Myka told her, patting the mattress next to herself. “You’re making me nervous.”

Uncomfortably, Helena crossed the room to join her, sitting down on the very edge of the bed, feeling like an intruder which was odd, as she’d been in Myka’s room on several occasions in the past and always felt quite comfortable. This was different, though.

“So,” Myka said after a moment. “Freud’s cigar.”

Had she been there that long?

“Unless there’s another artefact I’ve forgotten?” Her voice tilted inquisitively, and Helena heaved a silent sigh of relief. Maybe she’d missed it, then.

“Yes,” she agreed with a sigh. “Freud’s cigar.”

“Well, that explains why you need to have sex to get rid of it,” she said. “I have to admit, I’m kind of glad that you didn’t take Claudia up on her offer.” She flushed slightly as she spoke, and Helena raised an eyebrow. That was an interesting development.

“Oh? Why would that be?” She couldn’t help the flirtatious tone that crept into her voice - it was natural, and Myka made it so easy.

“Well, ah,” Myka said, and paused. “What Claudia wanted to tell you, that you wouldn’t let her? That’s very sweet, by the way. Protecting my secrets like that even when you don’t know what they are. Um, what I told her was that I like you.” She looked down at her hands, which were linked in her lap, the thumb of one hand running restlessly over the other. Then she looked up again, eyes meeting Helena’s frankly. “I like you very much, Helena, I just didn’t believe that you felt the same way about me, even though Claudia insisted that you did. Do.”

“I do,” Helena said quietly - redundantly, she thought, as Myka had already heard her confessing as much to Claudia. “It looks like she was right.”

“She’ll be insufferable,” Myka muttered, rolling her eyes, and then returned her attention to Helena. “So, ah, it would seem as if I’m in a position to help you out. If... if you want.”

Helena shifted, aware that just how much she did want was apt to make itself abundantly obvious if she kept thinking about it. Myka’s eyes were fixed on hers, and Helena wondered if they were darker than normal, or if she was imagining things. It wouldn’t be right, though, to take advantage of Myka, even if the attraction was mutual.

“I can’t,” she said, miserably, looking away. “You shouldn’t have to--”

She was interrupted by Myka’s hand on her cheek, turning her back to face her. Myka’s expression was set, determined. Oh dear - no-one could stand against her when she was determined.

“I heard that, too,” she said. “You wouldn’t be using me. I don’t have to do anything - I would be choosing to. So it’s a little sooner than I would normally like - and definitely more unusual. But Helena, I do want you.” She paused, biting her lip, looking suddenly unsure. “But, um, I want more than just this.”

Helena’s stomach did a little flip. Could she be implying...

“I want more than one night with you, just because of an artefact.”

“So do I,” Helena said softly, suddenly feeling calm and sure of herself. They both wanted the same thing. Everything would be fine. It was all - it was all going to be just fine.

“Then we’re on the same page,” Myka said, smiling, and shifted a little closer to Helena. Helena swallowed hard.

“We don’t have to.. I mean, we could wait before--”

“We could,” Myka interrupted, placing on hand on Helena’s thigh, nails teasing lightly through the fabric of her pants. “But just because we could, that doesn’t mean we have to, does it?”

“No,” Helena agreed, hearing her own voice coming thickly from her throat. Her eyelids fluttered as Myka’s hand stroked up along her leg, but she didn’t close them because she couldn’t miss any of the expressions that were flitting across Myka’s face.

She looked fascinated, eyes fixed on Helena, as if she were as loath to miss anything as Helena was. She bit her bottom lip and Helena swallowed at the sight of those even white teeth pressing lightly into soft, soft skin. Myka had a beautiful mouth.

Then Myka kissed her.

When she had imagined this moment before - and of course she had, as hard as she had tried not to - she had always thought that Myka would be hesitant, shy. That Helena would be the one to take the lead. But this kiss was anything but shy - as their lips met, Myka’s hand slid up Helena’s arm and shoulder, fingers curling around the back of her neck and holding Helena to her. Her mouth was firm, determined, moving against Helena’s with confidence.

Her other hand was still on Helena’s thigh and as she leaned into the kiss, her hand slid further up until her knuckles were brushing the length of rapidly-firming flesh that was pulsing against the fabric of Helena’s pants. Helena gasped, and she could feel Myka’s lips curving against hers. Myka pulled away slightly, but not so far that when she spoke Helena couldn’t feel her breath ghosting across her lips.

“It looks like everything is in working order,” she murmured, turning her wrist slightly and running her knuckles lightly over Helena’s penis (and that was such a weird thing to think). Helena gasped again, and Myka chuckled.

Helena couldn’t believe how calmly Myka was taking the whole thing. If anything, she seemed to be less uncomfortable with the situation than Helena was - for which fact she was extremely grateful. Dealing with having a penis was hard enough as it was (pun unintended) without needing to reassure a nervous Myka. But for her to be this... playful, was unexpected.

“It certainly feels as if it’s working,” she said, voice cracking a little in her throat. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she felt a little light-headed. “I have never encountered one from this perspective.”

“Isn’t it a good thing that I have?” Myka asked, with a wry little smile. “Imagine how awkward this could have been if neither of us knew what we were doing.”

Helena laughed at that, feeling more at ease. God bless Myka, sweet thing that she was. She seemed to know exactly what to do to defuse the tension.

“So...” Myka drawled slowly, fingers still playing lightly over Helena’s length, the other hand tickling the hairs at the nape of her neck. Helena raised an eyebrow. “Those pants weren’t described to contain what you’re packing. You must be getting rather uncomfortable.”

Helena felt her cheeks redden slightly - it was true that her pants were rather tight, and that the constriction was starting to make itself known in unpleasant ways. Still, she still felt a little odd about the idea of her - her - erect penis being freed. It finally acknowledged this as real. Then Myka curled her fingers around it, and squeezed gently, and Helena momentarily lost the capacity to form coherent thoughts. Her hips jolted sharply of their own accord, and Myka chuckled.

“That seems like a yes to me,” she said, and moved both of her hands to Helena’s belt buckle, slowly pulling the length of leather through the buckles and working on the button. Helena took a shaky breath, and then her zipper slid down and the pressure was relieved and oh my, but that felt so much better. She gave a sigh of relief, and Myka smiled.

“Better?” She asked, and Helena nodded.

“Very much so,” she acknowledged, and paused, before saying, tone quite serious, “thank you, Myka.”

Myka tilted her head inquisitively, hands, which had been toying with the bottom of Helena’s shirt, pausing for a moment.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said. “I want this as much as you do.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Helena said, catching one of Myka’s hands in hers. “I meant thank you for making this so easy for me.” She raised the hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Thank you.”

Myka smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m not sure what I’ve done, but you’re welcome.”

Helena laughed, shaking her head slowly. That was why it was easy, of course - Myka wasn’t even trying. This was just what came naturally to her, this ease.

“Sweet,” she murmured, kissing the back of Myka’s hand again, before letting it go and moving to stroke her cheek. “So very sweet,” before leaning in for another kiss.

Myka sighed into the kiss, eyes drifting closed as she began to unbutton Helena’s shirt, slowly, teasing the skin beneath as it was revealed. When the last button was undone she broke the kiss and leaned back, slipping the shirt slowly off Helena’s shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said quietly, eyes feasting on Helena’s skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“As have I,” Helena admitted as Myka moved back in to press a series of kisses to her collarbone, working towards the little hollow at the base of her throat. After a moment, Myka made a small, displeased sound, and stood up.

“Move back and lie down?” She suggested, and Helena scooted back on the bed, watching as Myka quickly pulled her own top over her head and shucked out of her jeans, kicking them off her long legs and bare feet.

Myka’s confidence was as appealing as anything else about her, Helena thought, although the perfection of her body certainly didn’t hurt. She was exquisite. She was divine. She was... climbing on top of Helena, settling over her hips and leaning forward with an intent expression on her face.

As the lace of Myka’s panties met the tented silk of Helena’s, Helena finally lost her struggle to keep her eyes open as her head fell back and her back arched and her breath came out as a moan. Myka’s moan echoed Helena’s, coming at almost the same moment, and her hips rocked gently. Helena’s head was spinning. It felt so different, and yet almost familiar at the same time.

Myka leaned further forward and her curls fell over her shoulders, brushing Helena’s chest before her lips did the same, travelling slowly down the valley between her breasts. Helena moved her hands to Myka’s shoulders, fingertips running lightly over the satiny skin there, but Myka sat up and caught her hands, moving them up above her head.

“No, let me, please? Let me explore you?”

Helena swallowed hard, taken aback by the darkness of Myka’s eyes, almost black with hunger, and she nodded silently, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other. It was going to be hard not to touch her, but if that was what Myka wanted...

Myka smiled, and slipped her hands behind Helena’s back, feeling for the catch of her bra. Obligingly, Helena lifted her shoulders off the bed for a moment and moved her arms, allowing Myka to slip the newly-freed garment away from her body and drop it carelessly to the side. Then she returned to her former position of submission - although she didn’t feel dominated, rather, she felt worshipped.

“So perfect,” Myka murmured, and leaned down to take one of Helena’s nipples between her lips.

When Helena felt the pointed tip of Myka’s tongue flickering over her skin, her breath caught in the back of her throat with a whimper, and again she could feel Myka smiling against her. Then Myka pulled back a little and blew across the wet flesh, the stream of air feeling icy cold, causing Helena’s nipple to screw itself up in protest, before she replaced her mouth which now felt almost burning hot.

Myka spent a long time worshipping her breasts with long, open-mouthed kisses, as if she wanted to brand ever inch of skin as hers. The first time she used her teeth, a light, experimental nip, Helena jerked and gasped, shivering all over, and from then on the kisses were interspersed with light bites in an unpredictable pattern that had Helena tensing with delightful anticipation. When her breasts were so sensitive that she almost couldn’t take any more stimulation and the slow, barely-there rock of Myka’s hips against her threatened to drive her mad, she felt Myka shift her weight and the kisses started to work their way down Helena’s body.

The light brush of Myka’s hair against her skin was delightfully tickly, making her squirm and causing Myka to press her shoulders into the bed with a chuckle. When the kisses passed over her stomach her muscles twisted under her skin and when Myka slid down between her legs and rubbed her cheek over the stretched silk of her panties Helena had to fight to keep still.

Then Myka’s hands were on her waistband, pulling her pants and underwear down in one smooth movement, scooting herself back down the bed as the fabric went until she was standing at the side of the bed and Helena was lying, completely exposed, throbbing with need, forgetful of how strange she must look.

“So perfect,” Myka repeated again, before she crawled back onto the bed and, with no warning, slid her mouth over the end of Helena’s cock and smoothly down her length.

The obscenity that slipped from Helena’s lips did not befit a lady of good breeding.

Myka chuckled around her and Helena jerked at the vibration of her lips. Myka curled her arms over Helena’s hips and moved slowly, softly teasing up and down, tongue fluttering, and Helena managed the dim thought that she was rather lucky, really, that Myka had experience in this particular act because God, it felt good.

Too good.

“Myka, stop,” she choked out, “I’m... I’ll...”

Myka chuckled again, but she pulled off her with a wet, obscene pop.

“Can’t have that,” she murmured, throatily, and crawled up Helena’s body.

At some point, she had managed to slip out of her own underwear, and she was as naked as Helena. Straddling Helena’s hips, she paused, and Helena bit her lip. Was she - yes, she was. Bracing one hand on Helena’s shoulder, she used the other to guide her length into her, sinking down with a soft sigh of her own. Helena’s vocal reaction was not soft.

Myka was hot, and tight, and so, so wet. If Helena had had any doubt as to Myka’s desire for her, it was gone at the feel of Myka’s want against her. Helena had closed her eyes at the sensation of Myka around her, but she opened them again almost immediately, to see Myka poised, still, above her, eyebrows drawn just a little together, breath coming so fast it was making her chest heave. She had never looked more beautiful.

Myka reached to brush the tips of her fingers across Helena’s lips - they were wet, muskily scented. Helena drew Myka’s fingers into her mouth, and purred throatily when she realised that she was tasting Myka. Myka flushed slightly and moved her hand to Helena’s other shoulder.

“I couldn’t wait,” she said, voice coming between short breaths.

“Then don’t wait now,” Helena suggested, finally moving her hands from above her head to grasp Myka’s hips, although she didn’t make any attempt to move her, or to shift her own hips, desperately thought she wanted to feel Myka moving around her. It was good that she hadn’t, thought, it was letting Helena regain some control over herself.

She almost lost that hard-gained control when Myka started to move, though, rolling her hips slowly with soft little gasps. She was so close - and she moved one of her hands between Myka’s legs, wanting to take Myka with her.

It was so strange to feel herself disappearing into Myka, but the strangeness was only an incidental thing now, next to the incredible sensation of Myka around her. When her fingertips found Myka’s clit, pressing down on either side and making tight circles, Myka cried out and her hips moved faster. Myka must be close as well.

Helena bit her lip again, harder, trying desperately to hold herself back, wanting to prolong this for as long as she could - but came completely undone when she felt Myka tightening down around her. They were moving in unison now, hips pushing together, but Helena lost her rhythm when Myka cried out again and threw her head back, stilling above her as she pulsed around Helena’s length and the sensation tipped Helena over the edge as well.

She came in silence, breath catching in her throat, body curved back and taut as a bow, ever muscle quivering. Myka collapsed forwards onto her, panting, skin shining with sweat, and Helena buried her face in Myka’s hot shoulder, wrapping her arms around her as if she might never let go.

She didn’t even notice the penis disappear - but Myka did.

“Well, that worked,” she mumbled into the side of Helena’s neck, and Helena blinked, wondering what she meant, before understanding came to her.

“So it did,” she managed, wondering how she could talk at all. “well. That was quite an experience.”

“Mmhmm,” Myka agreed, still talking into Helena’s neck. She didn’t seem to have any inclination to move. Well, that was fine, because Helena was quite content where she was too.

After a few minutes, though, Myka gave a shiver, and rolled off Helena, standing up from the bed with her eyes half-closed.

“Up,” she said, and Helena complied, stomach churning as she wondered if Myka was about to throw her out.

Apparently not, because all Myka did was to climb back on to the bed - under the covers this time - and hold them up for Helena. Helena heaved a silent sigh of relief and joined Myka under the covers, smiling when Myka immediately cuddled into her, wrapping her arm over Helena’s ribs and resting her head on her shoulder. Of course Myka would not have simply thrown her out - but it would take a while for her gut reaction to expect the other woman to suddenly come to her sense and wonder what on earth she had been doing.

“Stay?” Myka asked, sleepily, and Helena nodded.

“I would like that, darling.”

Myka muttered something unintelligible and burrowed further into Helena with a sigh, seeming to fall asleep almost instantly. Sleep did not come so easily to Helena. It never did, even on her best days, but there was so much to think about now that it would be a long time before she finally drifted off into a sleep that was shallow and troubled.

Surely, things would not be as easy as they seemed, or as Myka seemed to be taking for granted that they would. There were so many obstacles that could make this difficult. They lived and worked so closely together, there was the issue of their colleagues and who knew how they would react - with the exception of Artie, whose reaction was sadly predictable - and then there was the inescapable fact that Helena was not a native to this time and so many things caused her so much confusion. She was still learning simply how to function, could she really deal with a relationship on top of everything?

Perhaps it wouldn’t be hard. Perhaps she was over-thinking everything and it would actually all go smoothly. Perhaps the foreboding feeling that was preventing her from sleeping was simply nerves. Perhaps she was wrong.

Perhaps she wasn't.

'Sometimes, a Cigar is Just a Cigar' (1/3) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, PG-13

corchen — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 03:51:32 GMT

Title: ‘Sometimes, a Cigar is just a Cigar’
Author: corchen
Rating: PG-13. For this part. The next? Not so much. Go out a buy a fire extinguisher while you wait...
Word count: 4,104
Pairing/Characters: Helena/Myka. Claudia being her awesome self.
Summary: See title ;)
A/N This is in fact the crack, the whole crack, and nothing but the crack, and I make absolutely no apologies for it whatsoever. I can’t believe that I actually used this particular trope in a W13 fic. I am a bad, bad person. Also, Helena is apparently prone to asides, as this is written from her PoV, so I apologise for all the parentheses! And a question for the class: should Helena's gun be loaded, metaphorically speaking? Your vote counts!
Disclaimer: They’re not mine, unfortunately, but I only smudged them a bit and I’ll wipe them down and put them back when I’m done with them.

***

Sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar. In fact, most of the time a cigar is just a cigar, and it was that particular fact which had lead to the predicament in which Helena currently found herself. Every now and then, Helena liked to unwind after a particularly strenuous day with a glass of brandy and a cuban cigar - a habit she had picked up from Charles. She’d had to move from her traditional spot - a soft armchair by the fire - to a lounger on the deck outside but as the weather was perfectly warm even late into the evening that wasn’t a hardship. It seemed that the scent of a good cigar was no longer something that was welcome indoors, although she hadn’t noticed any of her colleagues objecting. Still, convention was convention, and the B&B was a ‘no-smoking establishment’, and that was that.

They never did work out how it had happened.Helena thought it was a property of the artefact itself, Artie suspected an Act of Claudia, Claudia claimed she had nothing to do with it but admitted that she did think it was pretty funny, Pete was too busy laughing and Myka... well, Myka had other things on her mind.

The cigar that night had not been just a cigar. It had been one of Freud’s cigars, somehow hiding in Helena’s miniature humidor, just waiting to work it’s insidious trick. Helena had barely lit the cigar, taken only a few mouthfuls of the heavy smoke before she felt an unusual pulling sensation in her groin. It wasn’t painful, wasn’t even unpleasant, in fact she would even go so far as to admit that it was rather pleasurable, but it was also just not right.

She looked down, not entirely sure what she expected to see, and there it was. An unmistakable bulge in her pants. Well.... bother. What was she supposed to do with one of those? She poked it experimentally, just to confirm her suspicions. Yes, that was definitely attached. She frowned and looked at the cigar in her hand, realising for the first time that it wasn’t her usual Cohiba - it looked almost the same, which was why she hadn’t noticed that it wasn’t, but it was very definitely not the cigar she had thought it was. Cigar. Sudden appearance of a penis. Well, that was all rather self-explanatory, wasn’t it? Damn Freud and his ridiculous penis-envy theories. Well, Helena certainly wasn’t suffering from penis envy any more.

She carefully put out the cigar, hoping (but not really expecting) that her extra appendage would disappear as quickly as it had appeared, but alas, it was not to be. Things were never that easy, were they? The next course of action was to pull out the artefact envelope that she had in her inside pocket - she did always like to be prepared - and drop the cigar into it. There was the expected crackle of purple sparks but, as she had feared, there was no sign of her... unnecessary accessory disappearing.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. She needed to look at the entry on Freud’s cigars, because although she remembered that they existed and this was the effect that they had - she had no idea how to get rid of the blasted thing now that it was there. She had a feeling that there was a very simple way to get rid of the thing, she just couldn’t remember what it was.

She just hoped it wouldn’t be as difficult to fix as the time she had been turned into a frog. It had taken them almost a week to find a princess to kiss her, a week which Helena still couldn’t remember without getting an unbearable craving for bluebottles. So when it came down to it, on the general scale of peculiar things that had happened to her during her tenure as a Warehouse Agent, finding herself with a surprise penis didn’t really rank right up there at the top.

So she needed to look at the artefact file. She knew that there was one - the blasted thing (things, really, there was a box containing a dozen of the cigars, missing only three - four now, she supposed) had been in the Warehouse for almost forty years. Thank Heaven that she had been assiduous in updating herself, reading through all of the reports since she had been Bronzed. Unfortunately, she had only had time to skim, meaning to come back and go over everything in more detail later, and so she didn't know any of the pertinent details - a hundred years of new artefacts was quite a lot of data to assimilate. Still, it was enough that she recognised the cigars, which was a godsend.

How was she going to get a look at the file though? It was almost nine in the evening. She could just drive over to the Warehouse (and that still made her shake her head in sheer disbelief sometimes, that it was so simple to drive forty miles out into the middle of nowhere - that it was something that people took for granted, quite how small their world had become. Forty miles was nothing - even four hundred miles was barely worth a second thought. Quite astounding). Still, while she could just make her way over to the Warehouse and look up the artefact with no actual problem... well, did she really need to? Maybe it would go away on its own.

Besides, she had to admit... she was curious. She would be lying if she were to say that she had never wondered just how... different things felt for a man. Perhaps she should take advantage of this opportunity to find out just how different. The temptation to spend an hour or so just... exploring... was quite strong. She allowed herself to entertain the possibility for a few minutes before shaking her head with a sigh. No., she didn't know how exactly the artefact worked, and she had no wish to be permanently saddled with a penis. And possibly testicles. Although the idea of it was intriguing, she was very comfortable with her own natural gender, and had no desire to be permanently stuck somewhere in between man and woman. Entertaining curiosity about how it felt to have a penis was one thing - spending the rest of her life with one was quite another.

Okay, so she she did need to find out how to deal with this. It was quite simple, she was absolutely certain that it was, but she really couldn't remember what she needed to do. Pursing her lips, she applied her not inconsiderable intellect to the problem. So. Freud's cigar (actually, there was no evidence that this particular box of cigars had ever been owned by Sigmund Freud, but it was as neat an appellation as any other) had the effect of saddling any woman unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on your point of view) enough to smoke one with a penis. The problem was that she couldn't remember anything else about the artefact - aside from the fact that its effects were reversible - and she couldn't take the risk that she might do the wrong thing and make the change permanent.

So, she needed to look at the file. She could go to the Warehouse - or she could ask Claudia. She knew that Claudia had remote access to Warehouse files - and that was what she needed right now. She stood, and looked down at herself. It wasn't obvious - unless one was looking for it. As no-one had any reason to be staring at her crotch, she should be perfectly safe. She took a step, and paused, eyes widening. Well. That felt completely different. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, noting clinically that her skimpy underwear had certainly never been meant to restrain quite so much... bulk. And slightly less clinically, that the silky material of her panties felt very pleasant, sliding across her skin.

Oh, Hell. Closing her eyes, she thought very hard about cold baths, life-threatening situations, and Queen Victoria. The last thing she needed right now was an erection. Crisis averted, she took a deep breath, and headed back into the guesthouse to talk to Claudia.

She found Claudia in her room - a fact for which she was grateful, as it saved her from having to concoct an excuse to drag the girl away. She didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the others - especially not Myka. Pete, Artie and Leena were all intelligent people, but Myka was just that little bit sharper - and more observant. If anyone would be likely to notice Helena’s extra few inches, it would be Myka. Claudia was extremely intelligent, of course but she was also charmingly naive, and she was unlikely to ask why, exactly, it was that Helena needed to get into Warehouse files at such a late hour. Helena hoped. She was also well aware that Claudia had a (rather adorable) crush on her, and under such a situation she was not entirely averse to using it to her advantage.

"Claudia, my dear, might I avail myself of your expertise?" Leaning on Claudia's door frame - the girl had left her bedroom door open, a tacit invitation for company - Helena shot her the best smile in her arsenal. Claudia looked up, cheeks pinking slightly.

"Sure," she said easily, hitting a key on her keyboard. "I'm not doing anything much, what can I do you for?"

Helena blinked, trying to parse that sentence, then gave up. Claudia had a rather odd turn of phrase, sometimes.

"I'd like to have a look at some artefact details, and rumour would have it that you're the woman to talk to."

Claudia grinned broadly - smirked really - and preened a little.

"Rumour has it right. there's nothing that Claudia can't get her hands on. Gimme ten minutes and I'll have it for you. What is it you're looking for?"

"Freud's cigars," Helena told her, crossing the room and placing herself behind Claudia's left shoulder, fascinated as always to watch the girl work her techno-magic. She had nothing but respect for Claudia's intelligence and capability with the technology that often left her baffled, so far advanced as it was from what she was familiar with. She'd catch up, eventually, but for now she was the pupil and Claudia the master.

"Freud's cigars?" Claudia asked, her fingers a blur on the keyboard. "Weird-ass artefact. Wasn't he the guy who was convinced that all of a woman's psychological problems were because she wanted a penis, and never got to screw her Daddy?"

"On a rather basic level, that's correct," Helena agreed, wrenching her gaze away from the line of Claudia's neck, displayed by the loose t-shirt she wore, which was slipping off her shoulder. That was entirely inappropriate. Claudia was an extremely attractive girl, but she was a colleague, and as far as Helena was aware, heterosexual. For Helena to be lusting after her was wrong. Besides, if she was going to have problems lusting after any of her colleagues - all right, she had problems lusting after one of her colleagues - it wasn’t Claudia. No, her fantasies tended towards dark eyes and dark curls and legs that went on for miles and lips that were so ridiculously kissable that it was unfair to... And that was a bad train of thought. Unfortunately, her new penis found it a very interesting train of thought, and she could feel it beginning to stir between her legs. Damn. Hopefully Claudia would find the file soon.

“Okay, got it,” Claudia said, scrolling quickly through the file. “Man, Freud was a werido, but this cigar thing is just nuts. I mean, seriously, instant peen? That’s, like, bad smut fiction material right there.”

Helena blinked once, twice, struck as she so often was by the way that it often seemed that Claudia was speaking an entirely different language. Or, no, not a language, a dialect. The meaning of Claudia’s words was so close to being so clear, as if she should know what the girl was saying. Oh, the gist of her words was clear enough, but there were subtleties that she was sure she was missing. She laughed.

“Yes, I suppose that it would make rather an amusing premise for a story. Alas, I need to see the file for far less prosaic reasons. May I?”

She gestured towards the screen and Claudia nodded, scooting her chair to the side so that Helena could lean in closer. Helena scanned through the details on the cigars, looking for the section on how to deal with the effects of the artefact.

“Why d’you need to see this anyway?” Claudia asked curiously, looking at Helena rather than at the screen.

“Oh,” Helena said vaguely, “I was wondering if they might be connected to a case I’ve been looking into.” It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. Aha! There it was.

The effects of this artefact do not dissipate with the neutralisation of the cigar, however they are relatively easy to negate, with a few caveats. A woman affected by the cigar needs only to engage in intercourse for the organ created by the cigar to disappear.

She needed to have sex. Well, that was... awkward. She was, without being vain, a very attractive woman. How was she going to find someone to sleep with who wouldn’t ask where the penis came into the picture?

It should be noted that not any partner will have the desired effect - there must be a high level of mutual attraction, ideally love but extreme attraction seems to have been efficacious in most documented cases, penetration must occur, and both partners must achieve climax. After appropriate intercourse, negating of the effect of the artefact should occur almost instantly.

Well, that was going to be so easy, wasn’t it? All she had to do was find someone she was attracted to, who was attracted to her, who wouldn’t ask awkward questions about why she had a penis - and even more pertinently about why it would subsequently disappear. She frowned, realising that this wasn’t going to be as simple as she had thought.

“Hey, HG, what’s with the face? You look pissed.”

Helena forced herself to smile slightly as she turned to Claudia. She could work out how to deal with this situation herself, there was no need to involve anyone else.

“Do I, darling? I hadn’t noticed - it must just be my thoughtful face.”

Claudia gave her a long, speculative look, and Helena was suddenly struck by the sinking feeling that she had underestimated Claudia.

“You know,” Claudia said slowly. “You smoke cigars, right? I mean, you smell a bit of cigar smoke right now - which is cool, I kinda like it - so I’m wondering if there isn’t a more personal reason that you wanted to look up this artefact. Like, why not just wait until tomorrow and look it up on the Warehouse system? Why ask me in the middle of the night?”

Helena really didn’t want to have this conversation. Explaining that she had somehow found herself saddled with unexpected male genitalia was really not something she wanted to do. She was going to have to though, wasn’t she? She could feel her cheeks warming, and the knowing look that Claudia gave her as she started to blush only made her blush harder.

“Dude!” Claudia’s eyes suddenly opened very wide, and her gaze dropped to Helena’s crotch for a few long seconds. Helena closed her eyes, mortified. “Oh, man, I didn’t mean... Shit, you went and smoked one of those cigars? Seriously, man, you have a dick now? Shit.”

“Indeed,” Helena agreed wryly, as there was no point in trying to conceal her little problem now that Claudia had so obviously worked out what was going on. She stepped away from the computer and sat down on the end of Claudia’s bed, running one hand distractedly through her hair.

“I don’t know how it happened. I certainly didn’t pick one up, and unless someone intentionally put one in with my cigars I can’t understand how it could have been mixed in with them. Apparently that’s what happened though, and now I.. well. You read the file.”

“Yeah, but that should be pretty simple, right? I mean, you’re hot. Shouldn’t be hard to find someone you want to do the nasty with who feels the same way about you.”

“If that was all it was,” Helena agreed, “then no, you are right. It wouldn’t be too arduous. Don’t forget though that I currently have a penis, that will - hopefully - disappear and possibly in a rather obvious manner.”

“Oh,” Claudia said. “Good point. Yeah.”

She looked thoughtful, staring at the computer screen, and then shot Helena a sideways look. Helena had a sneaking feeling that she knew what Claudia was about to say, and hoped that she was wrong. She wasn’t.

“Well, um, I do think you’re hot. And I wouldn’t be weirded out by the whole now-you-see-me now-you-don’t great disappearing cock act.” Claudia was blushing almost as furiously as Helena had been a few moments earlier.

“That’s an incredibly sweet offer,” she said. “Really, darling, and it means a lot to me, but I couldn’t.”

Claudia pouted. She actually pouted, and Helena couldn’t help smiling at her - she looked quite adorable.

“Why not? Don’t you like me? I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” Helena agreed. “And that is exactly why I can’t. You are a very attractive young woman, Claudia, but honestly, do you think it would work? There’s no overwhelming attraction between us, is there? It would almost certainly fail to have the effect we would be hoping for, and things would be very awkward between us afterwards.”

“I don’t see why,” Claudia said with a small shrug. “So we’d’ve had sex, whatever, things would only be weird if we made them weird. But if you don’t want to, fine, we’ll come up with someone else.”
“It’s a sweet offer, though,” Helena told her, suspecting that she had hurt Claudia’s feelings more than she was admitting. After all, she’d been aware of Claudia’s crush on her for quite some time. “It means a lot that you’d be willing to, hm, fall on my sword for me.” She winked impishly. The line was terrible, but she hadn’t been able to resist using it.

Claudia snorted, shaking her head.

“Bad pun, HG, seriously. You must be rattled if you’re making jokes that bad. So. Other options. Leena? Nah - I mean, I’m sure she would, but I don’t think you’re her type. Pete might go for it but I don’t think he’s your type, and he’d be crowing about it for months afterwards. Probably for ever. Artie’s right out.” She paused, and Helena raised an eyebrow at her. What was the little minx playing at?

“Well,” Claudia continued, airily. “Of all the immediately available candidates, that just leaves Myka.”

Helena waited for Claudia to explain why Myka would not be suitable. No such explanation was forthcoming. Claudia just grinned at her with an insufferably smug look on her face. What was all that about? After the silence had dragged on for longer than she was comfortable with, she finally sighed, and gave in.

“All right,” she said eventually. “You’re obviously just dying to say something. What about Myka?”

“It’s obvious,” Claudia said, finally moving to sit on the end of the bed next to Helena, bumping their shoulders together. “The two of you have been making googly eyes at each other since the moment you met. That time when we ran into you at that school, and she had the Tesla on you? I thought you guys were going to end up getting it on right there. I mean, you two are basically a walking example of UST. It’s frackin’ ridiculous.”

“We’re a... a what?” Helena asked, choosing to focus on Claudia’s odd language rather than her claims that there was something between Myka and herself. There wasn’t. Oh, it wasn’t that she wouldn’t like for there to be, or that Myka didn’t sometimes seem responsive to her flirting, but she’d never given Helena any indication that she wasn’t just friendly.

“UST,” Claudia repeated. “Unresolved Sexual Tension. If this were a TV show which, by the way, would be awesome, and I would so totally be the star, then the two of you would have, like, your own little fan following who would be convinced that you were secretly screwing.”

“I see,” Helena said faintly. “What on earth makes you so sure?”

“Aside from the way you’re always checking out her butt? And the way she stares at you when she thinks you’re not looking? And the way you’re always so flirty - and don’t tell me you do that with everyone, you turn it all the way up to eleven with her. And the way she was totally not surprised when you said you were into girls - I didn’t miss that little smirk even if you did.”

“Aside from that,” Helena said, because none of that was even slightly conclusive. It was circumstantial at best, and was based entirely on Claudia’s interpretation of what she thought she saw.

“Well.” Claudia paused. “Um. She kinda asked me not to tell you.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. This was an interesting development.

“Who asked you not to tell me what?”

“Myka, duh,” Claudia told her, rolling her eyes as if Helena had just asked a rather stupid question which, she supposed, she probably had. “But, um, I guess that she probably wouldn’t mind, seeing as it’s kinda an emergency.”

“No, no,” Helena interrupted quickly, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t break her trust, this isn’t nearly important enough.”

“Not important?” Claudia asked, drawing her eyebrows together in confusion. “Dude, you have a dick. That’s pretty life-changing. And you’re going to be stuck with it if we can’t figure out who you can bump uglies with”

Where did she get all of these uncouth euphemisms from?

“It’s also not important enough to tell me something Myka obviously told you in confidence. Please, don’t. You are right though, at least about me. I am attracted to her - very much so. If it was just about sex... But I can’t use her like that. I... It’s not just physical.”

She sighed. If only Myka felt the same way. Claudia seemed to think that she did, but she had no proof. Unless Myka had told her... For a moment she was tempted to change her mind and let Claudia tell Myka’s secret, but she couldn’t. It just wouldn’t be right. She pushed her hair back from her face, arching her back, tense from all of the stress, and staring at the ceiling for a moment.

“Thank you for all of your help, Claudia, I think I’m going to try and get some sleep, and perhaps a solution will come to me.” She cast a sideways glance at Claudia. “Please, don’t tell anyone about this? It would be extremely embarrassing for me, I am hoping that we can resolve the issue without anyone needing to find out.”

“Sure,” Claudia agreed easily. “I don’t mind. But are you sure you don’t want me to help out?”

“You’re very sweet to offer,” Helena told her, getting to her feet and turning to smile down at Claudia. “I’ll think about it.”

“Cool!” Claudia said with a grin, and then flipped her hair forward over her face. “I mean, sure. Well, g’night. Sleep well. And good luck.”

“Thank you, darling, for the help,” Helena told her with a smile. “It is very much appreciated.”

“No problem,” Claudia said, waving one hand flippantly. “Any time. Ask Aunt Claudia, that’s me.” If Helena stopped to ask Claudia to clarify every odd thing she said, she would never get to bed, so she chose to ignore that particular comment, and simply smiled again, and left the room.

Whereupon she bumped straight into Myka, who was standing just outside the door, biting on her lower lip, and looking extremely guilty. Oh dear. How much had she heard?

'(lady i will touch you with my mind)' (8/8) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, NC-17

corchen — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 20:18:31 GMT

Title: (lady i will touch you with my mind) - Epilogue
Author: corchen
Rating: PG
Word count: 685
Pairing/Characters: HG/Myka
Summary: Just a little epilogue to wrap everything up
Disclaimer: In no way whatsoever are these guys mine, but I promise to hose them down and put them back when I'm done with them.

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

***

"Why did you send me with Helena? Why not Pete? I would have thought that considering our cover was as a newly-wed couple that would have been the obvious option."

Artie looked up from his desk, peering at Myka over the top of his glasses. He had wondered how long it would take for one of them to ask him that question.

"Firstly," he said, "I don't see what your gender has to do with anything. And secondly, I didn't decide anything - Mrs Frederic told me to send the two of you."

And now he knew why - neither of the women was exactly what he would have called subtle, and it was quite obvious that something had transpired between them while they had been away. He had his suspicions but he didn't need to know exactly what had happened - that was hardly professional. Ah well, there was something of a tradition when it came to Warehouse agents keeping their romantic affiliations within the family, as it were. Not that he entirely approved of Myka's choice of partner, but he was just going to have to live with it.

He had been informed in no uncertain words that he must put his animosity towards Agent Wells aside. Coming from anyone else he would have simply ignored the directive, but when it was Mrs Frederic speaking with the backing of the Regents, he really had no choice but to comply. Besides, well... Perhaps, and it was only a perhaps, he had been judging Helena unfairly. He still didn't trust her, but he didn't really trust anyone so that was hardly new.

His musings were interrupted by Myka's confused questioning.

"Mrs Frederic? But why on earth would she tell you to send us?"

Artie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, Myka, she explained all of her reasoning to me." Myka flushed - it had after all been a silly question. "She just said that I needed to send the two of you, and that the reason why would be self-explanatory. I just did as I was told."

"Oh," Myka said, flushing again and not meeting Artie's eyes. Artie sighed and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Now," he said, "if you're quite finished, I'd rather not think about exactly why it was necessary to send the two of you, so if you don't mind I'll just get back to what I was doing." Myka scowled at him, and he sighed again. Of course she would take that statement the wrong way. "Look," he continued, before she had a chance to interrupt. "I can't say that I approve of the idea of you and Agent Wells together. I've made my distrust of her quite clear."

Myka opened her mouth but Artie cut her off before she could say anything.

"Let me finish, please? I might not approve of Agent... of Helena, but it's not my decision to make. It's your heart to give away, and Mrs Frederic has informed me in no uncertain words that she's here to stay. So I'm not going to try and stand in your way. I'm even going to make an attempt to be nicer to her from now on."

He pushed his glasses up his nose again, firmly, and looked down at his computer screen.

"What I will not do is dwell on what you might or might not have done whilst under the influence of that artefact. That is entirely inappropriate."

"Oh," said Myka softly, and Artie thought to himself that he rather seemed to have taken the wind out of her sails. That was satisfying.

"Indeed," he muttered, and applied himself to his work.

His quest to keep his mind away from exactly what Myka and Helena might have been up to for those two nights however was rather destroyed later that afternoon.

"I am going down to the library," Helena called, from the doorway to the office. "Myka? Would you care to accompany me?"

"Sure," Myka told her with a knowing grin, and Artie buried his face in his hands.

He really, really didn't want to know.

***

XVII

Lady,i will touch you with my mind.
Touch you and touch and touch
until you give
me suddenly a smile,shyly obscene

(lady i will
touch you with my mind.)Touch
you,that is all,

lightly and you utterly will become
with infinite care

the poem which i do not write.

(E.E. Cummings)

***

Some notes on the artefact:

A German translation of Democritus' 'On the Soul' being a book containing his essays 'On the Mind' and 'On the Senses', owned by Sigmund Freud. (This text, along with all of Democritus' other work, actually only survives in citation but for the purpose of this fic there was a limited run of twenty printed in the early Sixteenth Century, this is the only surviving copy. The original Greek text is still out there... somewhere.) When the book in close proximity to someone in a particularly intense emotional state, causes that person to project their feelings and sometimes physical sensations onto the cause/s of the emotion.

The ancient Greek philosopher Democritus put forth the wave and corpuscle theories to explain telepathy. This began what may be called the naturalization of the supernatural dream. Democritus (460-370 B.C.) is credited with the first physical theory of dream telepathy. His view of telepathy is derived from the thesis that everything, including the soul, is made up of innumerable, indivisible, minute particles called atoms. These atoms constantly emit images of themselves, which in turn are composed of still other atoms.

He postulated that the images projected by living beings, when emotionally charged, could be transmitted to a dreamer (percipient). When the images reached their destination, they were believed to enter the body through the pores. Images emitted by people in an excited state were especially vivid and likely to reach the dreamer in an intact and undistorted form because of the frequency of emission and the speed of transmission.

Freud on telepathy: Freud theorised that telepathy may have been a form of ancient communication turned physical and conversely that it was a physical process that, over time, became mental.

'(lady i will touch you with my mind)' (7/8) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, NC-17

corchen — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 20:24:56 GMT

Title: (lady i will touch you with my mind)
Author: corchen
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1,813
Pairing/Characters: HG/Myka
Summary: It wouldn't do for Helena to be left wanting, now would it?
A/N Almost done!
Disclaimer: In no way whatsoever are these guys mine, but I promise to hose them down and put them back when I'm done with them.

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

***

She had intended to keep her distance, stay safely on the other side of the room - because she did truly, truly love to watch, she had always loved to watch and watching Myka was the single most arousing thing she had ever experienced, eclipsing even the events of the previous evening - but she couldn't. Myka had let out that choked, desperate plea and she'd been on her feet and crossing the room before she'd consciously decided to move.

Having Myka in her arms was better than she had imagined. Myka's face was turned into her neck and she could feel Myka's hot forehead pressing against her own cheek. The contact almost burned her. She had barely taken the other woman into her arms before Myka's back arched further than before, and her fingers dug painfully into Helena's skin as she came with a desperate shudder. Helena smiled to herself and ran her fingers gently along Myka's spine, before she realised that Myka was still shaking against her, and that her breath was uneven and catching in her throat. There were tears against her neck.

"Myka?" She forced her voice to stay even although she couldn't hide her worry. She had thought that this would be allright, had she misjudged, terribly? What had she done, she had probably just destroyed everything. Stupid, Helena. Why are you always so stupid? "Is something wrong?"

Myka relaxed against her, curling her arm about Helena's stomach and pressing her hot damp face further into the crook of her neck. Helena's heart skipped a beat out of sheer relief.

"No, I just... I've never felt anything like that. It was... almost too much." Helena sighed silently, her eyes fluttering closed as she sent a silent thank you out to whoever or whatever had given her this gift. "Just... hold me?"

How could she ever want to do anything else?

"Of course," she said quietly, pressing her lips to the top of Myka's head and wondering if just how she felt about the other woman was evident. If Myka could possibly feel the same way. "For as long as you need me to."

She almost missed Myka's next words, they were whispered so quietly, half muffled by Helena's throat.

"How about for ever?"

Helena could barely manage to answer, her own throat closed up with emotion at the meaning implicit in those few little words. But she managed, shaking though she was.

"Of course." Myka reached up and found one of Helena's hands, lacing their fingers together, squeezing gently. After a moment, Helena returned the pressure, and felt Myka smiling into the side of her neck.

"If I had any energy at all," Myka murmured after a moment, "I would pay you back for that little stunt." She shifted slightly, snuggling further into Helena's arms and tangling their legs together. "But I think you broke me. I can hardly move."

"Then don't," Helena suggested with a little laugh. "We have all the time we need." She liked that thought, liked the idea of not needing to hurry or worry because she had all the time with Myka that she might need.

"We do," Myka answered with a little laugh of her own, sounding contented and lazy. The hand that wasn't holding Helena's began to trace light patterns across her ribs, and Helena shivered slightly under the delicate touch. She sighed contentedly and Helena couldn't help the grin that spread across her face at the sound. She thought that if she could spend the rest of her life just close with Myka like this, that she would die a happy woman.

"Well," Myka said after a few moments where they just enjoyed the closeness. "At least we know what the artefact is."

"That is true," Helena agreed thoughtfully. "It seems to project the desires of one person onto the object of said desires. I wonder if there's a reason why it manifested the way that it did - first acting on me and then on you."

"Could it have been something that we both touched?" Myka asked. "I mean if I came into contact with it last night, and then you did today. Or the other way around, I suppose."

"That would make sense," Helena mused. "I'm just wondering what artefacts I can think of that have a telepathic..." She paused, and Myka pulled her head away from Helena's shoulder to look up at her.

"Thought of something?"

"Yes," Helena said slowly. "That book that I was reading last night - 'Diskurs über die Seele'. It was owned by Freud at some point, there's a bookplate in the front of the cover, and Freud had some interesting theories on telepathy. More particularly, so did Democritus - he theorised that telepathy was caused by the manifestation of dreams, particularly when the dreamer was in an excited state. Which ties in rather neatly with what happened, don't you think?"

"Very neatly," Myka agreed, nodding. Helena shivered as Myka's hair brushed over her shoulders, and she didn't miss the slight quirk of Myka's eyebrow of the way the tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip. "You're brilliant," Myka said, and leaned up to brush her lips over Helena's.

Helena almost died. Every time she thought that she had reached the peak of possible sensation, she was proven wrong. Kissing Myka was like nothing she had ever felt, and judging from the little sigh that fluttered from Myka's lips as she pulled back, Myka felt the same way.

"I suppose that we should bag the book and call Artie," Myka said after a moment, her eyes still fixed on Helena's.

"We should," Helena agreed, not making any attempt to move.

"Or," Myka said impishly, trailing the backs of her fingers up Helena's ribcage until they brushed the swell of her breast, "I suppose we could just wait until tomorrow. One more evening isn't going to make all that much difference."

Her heart thudding away at the inside of her ribcage, Helena quirked an eyebrow at Myka who wrinkled her nose back at her with a thoroughly wicked twinkle in her eyes. Taking a firm hold of her impulse to roll Myka over onto her back and ravish her thoroughly, she forced herself to stay still and let Myka lead the way. Myka's fingers danced lightly up the valley between Helena's breasts until she flattened her hand over her heart. Helena could feel her own heartbeat pounding against Myka's palm.

"Wow," Myka muttered, taking in a breath, and Helena found herself blushing lightly. She never blushed. "Your heart sounds like it's trying to break out."

"It feels rather that way too," Helena admitted, taking a deep breath.

Myka made a satisfied purring noise in the back of her throat and pushed herself up a little, untangling their fingers and using the freed hand to brace herself above Helena, her hair hanging down around her face and brushing against Helena's cheeks. As she moved, her thigh slid in between Helena's legs and Helena couldn't stop her hips from canting forwards to increase the pressure, a little helpless noise escaping her throat. She never blushed, and she never whimpered, but she was doing both now.

"I thought," she said breathlessly, "that I had broken you?"

"I recover fast," Myka said, before leaning down to brush her lips over the delicate skin below Helena's ear. Her hand was still resting over Helena's heart, and Helena was very conscious that Myka could hear the way her heart sped up with just that simple contact.

Myka murmured something unintelligible into the side of Helena's neck and rocked her hips, her thigh sliding slowly up, down, up again. Helena's breath caught in her throat and as her fingers tightened she realised that at some point she had moved her hands to clutch onto Myka's shoulders. Myka kept up the torturously slow and gentle rhythm and Helena struggled to keep her eyes open.

"What did you say?" She asked, and heard her own voice as if someone else was speaking, low and needy.

"I said," Myka replied, moving up just a little so that she was speaking directly into Helena's ear, her voice a bare whisper, her breath hot against Helena's skin, making her shiver, "that I couldn't believe how wet you are." She emphasised 'wet' with a harder pulse of her leg and Helena groaned.

"How close are you?" She continued, the quiet sound of her voice seeming to resonate inside Helena's skull. "You must be pretty close. Watching me. Touching yourself." Myka moaned quietly and the sound made Helena's head swim. "That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen, you know, knowing that it was because of me, that you couldn't wait, that you just had to give in."

Helena moaned helplessly, every muscle in her body iron-tense, feeling her toes curl and the hot, liquid surge of orgasm building in her belly. She bit her lip, struggling to keep from screaming, and Myka sighed into her ear. "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Helena Wells."

She pulled her mouth away then and moved to stare straight into Helena's eyes, her own gaze frank and open. Helena was having trouble keeping her eyes open, but with Myka's eyes locked onto hers there was no way she could shut them. Myka dipped her head and whispered, just as their lips brushed, the words themselves a kiss.

"I'm falling in love with you."

It was the words, the kiss, the pulse of Myka's thigh, everything at once, and Helena crested and broke, moaning her release into Myka's lips, her fingers tightening so hard on her shoulders that they would find the bruises there the next morning and Helena would be distracted for days, catching sight of the faint discolouration on Myka's skin, peeping above the neckline of her shirts. When she could breathe again, when she could think, she sighed caught Myka's hand, still resting above her heart, with her own and brought it to her lips, brushing a light kiss to her palm and folding Myka's fingers around it as if it was a solid thing. Myka smiled.

"You have completely captured my heart, Myka. Just please, be gentle with it."

Myka flushed lightly, biting her bottom lip, and nodded.

"As long as you promise to do the same."

"Always," Helena said, thinking that she seemed to making that promise a lot. It was one she would be happy to keep.

Myka sighed happily and dropped back down onto the bed, curling into Helena's side. Helena wrapped her arm around Myka's shoulders, revelling in the feeling of their skin pressed together, in the feel of Myka's heartbeat against her.

"We should still call Artie," Myka said after a few minutes.

"We should," Helena agreed.

Myka looked at Helena, smirking, and Helena laughed. "Tomorrow?" She asked.

"Tomorrow," Myka agreed.

'(lady i will touch you with my mind)' (6/8) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, NC-17

corchen — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 23:45:09 GMT

Title: (lady i will touch you with my mind)
Author: corchen
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,387
Pairing/Characters: HG/Myka
Summary: Helena's a writer... she has a very vivid imagination. Myka is about to discover just how vivid.
A/N Sorry about the long wait between parts, hopefully it was worth the wait. This is for fewthistle, without whom this fic would probably have foundered and drowned.
Disclaimer: In no way whatsoever are these guys mine, but I promise to hose them down and put them back when I'm done with them.

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five)

***

With her eyes shut, Myka couldn't tell that it wasn't Helena above her, kissing her. Helena's hands ran down her arms, slender fingers encircling her wrists before pulling her hands up above her head. Myka's eyes opened at that, though, and it was a jolt to remember that Helena was in fact sitting on the other side of the room. She tugged lightly at the invisible grip on her wrists, but it was like trying to move a rock, and Helena chuckled quietly at her efforts.

"I very much suspect that my imagination is stronger than your muscles, darling," she said quietly, and Myka stopped struggling to stare at her, wide-eyed. "I would suggest that you simply accept the inevitable. Although," and her face sobered for a moment. "If you truly wish me to desist, simply say so. I would never force you." There was a brief flash across her face of an emotion that Myka couldn't quite identify - anger, perhaps - before she schooled it away and raised an eyebrow at Myka, patently waiting for her response.

Myka bit her lip, but said nothing. She couldn't bring herself, quite, to say out loud that yes, she wanted this, but she equally couldn't truthfully say that she didn't. Helena nodded, and Myka felt a phantom caress along her cheek, as if Helena's fingers had drifted across her skin.

"Good," Helena murmured. Myka swallowed at the velvety tone of her voice, still a little scared. But it was the good kind of scared, the kind of tangled feeling that you get in the pit of your stomach at the peak of a roller-coaster, or the adrenaline rush just before a complicated job.

"I trust you," she said, surprised to hear the words coming from her own mouth but realising as she said them that they were true.

Helena smiled at her then, her eyes dancing with an expression that Myka thought she recognised, and didn't dare to name. Myka felt the weight above her shift, ánd then she was being kissed and she had to close her eyes or lose her mind at the contradiction between what she felt and what she saw. She moaned into the kiss and arched her back, and then Helena's lips left hers and brushed lightly over her cheek before settling over her pulse point.

That earned a light whimper and a further arching of her back, head tipping back as she bared her throat in complete submission. Then she felt Helena's hands leave her wrists, trailing softly along her bare arms, fingernails teasing the skin lightly. Myka could feel the wash of goosebumps that accompanied the caress as a pleasant prickle that ran down her spine and over her scalp, a wash of electric tingles that made her shiver. There was little point moving her arms. She wouldn't be able to feel Helena, as she had already discovered that the illusion that she was being caressed only worked one way - she could be touched, she could not touch in return - so there was nothing to be gained in moving. At least, that was what she was telling herself. The fact that having her hands over her head added to the feeling of utter helplessness that she felt had nothing to do with the reason she left them there. It was purely practical.

The lips at her throat nipped gently and the hands slipped up under her shirt, smoothing over her belly and stroking up her ribcage before cupping her breasts, thumbs teasing gently at the nipples that were already straining against the thin satin of her bra. Myka gasped at the touch and then she felt the buttons of her shirt being undone, one by one, and noted dimly that it didn't seem fair that Helena appeared to be able to touch her and undress her at the same time. Then her nipples were being pinched through her bra, not too softly, not too hard, and she lost her train of thought entirely. Her shirt fell open and those lips left her neck to trail a hungry path downwards, stopping to plant a stinging kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat before continuing down over her chest.

Myka had never in her life been as grateful for front-opening bras as she was right then.

The kisses ran along the swell of her breasts now, everywhere at once, and if this was anything like the way Helena had felt last night Myka didn't know how she could have stood it in silence. She bit her lip as she felt a hot, wet mouth close on one of her nipples, and opened her eyes to see Helena watching her intently, leaning forward a little in the chair. One hand was still lying on her knee, and the other hand risen to the front of her neck. Helena's fingers were curled loosely along her collarbone, and her thumb was stroking restlessly up and down along the creamy triangle of skin revealed by the opening of her shirt.

Her eyes were black in the low light of the room, and she was biting down on her bottom lip in exactly the same way as Myka was - whether intentionally or in unconscious imitation Myka didn't know. The tip of Helena's tongue appeared briefly, smoothing over the place where her teeth had been a moment before and Myka felt a tongue flicker across her nipple. She gasped and Helena leaned forward a little more, noticing Myka watching her and giving her a dangerous smile. Myka flushed hotly, embarrassed but not embarrassed that Helena was watching her, and closed her eyes.

Helena chuckled.

Myka felt her shoes being slipped off her feet and her jeans being unbuttoned and swallowed hard at the idea that in a few short moments she would be entirely naked. Naked, and exposed to Helena's unrelenting stare, and at that thought she could feel a hot blush washing over her face and travelling down her neck. But there was no use in getting shy now - she wanted this, and if she was honest with herself the idea of Helena justwatching was incredibly exciting. That Helena seemed so cool and collected was exciting too, that she seemed completely at ease with the situation.

Helena exhaled quietly, a barely-there sound that wasn't quite a sigh, and Myka's jeans slipped smoothly, slowly, down her legs. The rasping of the soft, well-worn denim against her skin was torturously unhurried, and she arched her back with a soft sound, hips lifting off the bed in frustration. Helena laughed again, soft and low. The sound of Helena's voice seemed to stroke Myka from the inside out. There was something about the timbre of her voice, her pitch, something undefinable, that seemed to set every nerve in her body to humming. She shivered, and it wasn't only because of the gentle fingertips that were now stroking their way up her now-bare legs, starting at her ankles and drawing lazy patterns up the smooth skin.

She was very conscious now of the fact that she was almost completely naked, on display for Helena who still seemed just as cool and collected as before. There was no sign of her earlier distress, just a dark need in her eyes and intensity to her expression that was almost frightening. It was exciting though, very exciting to realise that she was the one who had put that expression into Helena's eyes. She felt a solid weight settle over her hips again, pressing her down into the mattress, and stifled a quiet groan. She couldn't hide the shudder that went through her at the contact.

"How do you suppose," Helena asked, her tone low and conversational, "that I felt last night, feeling what you're feeling now, knowing that you were awake beside me, unable to make a single sound?"

Myka's only reply was a low moan as she felt lips travelling down the side of her neck, passing lightly over her collarbone, dropping butterfly kisses along her shoulder. She closed her eyes, the better to concentrate on the sound of Helena's voice and the feel of her touches. Helena's hands (ghostly or not, they were Helena's hands, just as if she had really been there and not on the other side of the room) stroked lightly up over Myka's ribcage, cupping her breasts gently and teasing her nipples, already so tight they were almost painful, into even harder peaks.

"I don't think I have ever been more painfully aroused in my life," she continued, and Myka was at a loss to know whether it was Helena's voice or her touches that affected her the most. "It was absolute torture," she continued, and in a moment of almost-clarity Myka thought that it was thoroughly unfair that Helena should be able to talk while her lips were trailing down over one of Myka's breasts, and that she should be able to continue talking while her mouth was wrapped around one of her nipples.

"And I thought it was merely my own fantasies that I was feeling," she continued. "But it was you all of the time," she said huskily. "Did you really want to do all of those things I felt?" She asked.

Myka nodded, not trusting her own voice. This was almost cruel, but she couldn't bear for Helena to stop, not now.

"Now you know how I felt," she said. Myka felt gentle teeth closing down around her nipple and less-gentle nails scratching slowly down her sides, and she arched up into the touch. "Unable to touch back. Unable to respond. Just a passive participant, having to feel everything you were thinking, not able to touch you back, however much I wanted to."

Myka screwed her eyes shut even harder, shivering all over. She couldn't seem to stop shuddering, her skin so incredibly sensitive that even the gentlest of touches seemed to be enough to set her on fire.

"Then you stopped," Helena said, and Myka felt herself tense all over. Was Helena really going to just leave her like this? Helena must have seen her reaction, because she laughed, low and throaty, and Myka actually heard herself whimper in response to the sound. "Oh, don't worry," Helena murmured, "I'm not going to leave you high and dry... Although I'm not sure that dry is exactly the right word, is it?"

When had Helena managed to divest Myka of her underwear? She hadn't noticed her panties being removed but they must have been, because she felt a smooth, toned thigh slipping between her own legs and pressing up, and if that thigh had been real Myka knew that Helena would have been extremely aware of just how wet she was. She gasped and her head tipped back even as her hips surged upwards, completely without any conscious intent on her part. A hand slid down, over her stomach, and slender fingers slipped over her drenched and swollen sex and curled deeply into her.

"So beautiful," Helena murmured, and something in her voice made Myka turn her head towards her and open her eyes. Helena was still staring at her with that hungry look in her eyes but now her cool and collected look was gone. Her hair was clinging to her forehead in damp tendrils, her cheeks were flushed, and she was biting down on her lower lip. That wasn't what made Myka's heart skip a beat, though, wasn't what made her already almost-unbearable arousal hit a new peak. Helena had at some point slipped out of her own pants and underwear and was now wearing only her shirt, which was unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder, and she had one hand between her legs where it was moving in a lazy rhythm that could not possibly be misinterpreted. The other hand was lying on the arm of the chair and her fingers were twitching slightly, in time with the phantom fingers that were stroking into Myka.

Oh, God. Helena was just going to watch, wasn't she, and there was nothing Myka could do. She couldn't even close her eyes now, because she couldn't look away from Helena's dark, intent gaze. She was letting Myka watch her, though - she could have just sat there, stayed distant and uninvolved - as uninvolved as she could be when her phantom fingers were knuckle-deep inside Myka, that was - but she'd chosen to allow Myka to watch her touching herself. It was incredibly intimate. She didn't want it to end.

The fingers inside her sped up, and now there was a mouth as well, a skilful tongue that lapped gently at her clit, sending little lightening prickles through her. Her hands were knotted into the pillow covers now, her knuckles white, and she could feel her back starting to arch. She could feel her orgasm building up inside her, though, and her breath began to catch in her chest.

"Helena..." It was the first thing she'd managed to say almost since this began and it was barely a word, choked out between gasps. "Please..."

"What do you need?" Helena asked and her own voice was barely more stable than Myka's.

"You," she gasped, finally unclenching one hand and reaching towards Helena. She needed to feel Helena, needed to feel her real touch, otherwise she was afraid that she would truly break apart.

Helena stood from the chair and crossed the room in one smooth movement and then she was on the bed next to Myka and Myka was in her arms and shuddering against her as her orgasm crashed through her with an intensity that she had never felt before. She didn't even realise that she was crying, at first, until she felt Helena's hands smoothing gently across her back and dimly heard her worried voice in her ear.

"Myka? Is something wrong?"

"No," she said, shakily, finally relaxing bonelessly against the other woman, feeling completely limp. "No, I just... I've never felt anything like that. It was... almost too much." She sniffed slightly and pressed her face into the crook of Helena's neck. "Just... hold me?"

"Of course," Helena murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "For as long as you need me to."

"How about for ever?" Myka whispered, so quietly she could barely hear her own words.

Dreamwidth?

corchen — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 15:15:24 GMT

Ok, just for backup, because it seems wise to be prepared.... does anyone have a spare Dreamwidth code kicking about that they could throw in my direction? Many thanks!

Porn Battle!

corchen — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 15:36:20 GMT

It's that time of year again - the totally-not-at-all-annual femslash_today porn battle. Go here and leave your prompts between now and 23:59PDT March 17th, and then if you're lucky awesome writers will create porn based on your suggestions. Or hey, if you're a writer you can go snag a few prompts and write some porn. Everybody wins!

In the immortal words of Tank Girl - Go! Do it!

A Warehouse 13 drabble.

corchen — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 20:27:40 GMT

Author: corchen
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: U
Disclaimer: Not mine. Woe.
Word count: 100
A/N: Just getting in a little angst practise. It's fewthistle's fault, so this is for her.

***

(she pulled the trigger)

There had been many times that Helena had wanted to reverse Time, stop it in its tracks and send it hurtling backwards, rewinding words, deeds, events. Change the past, change something that had been done, change everything or change just one thing. She wanted that now, in this instant between one heart-beat and the next, in the moment between action and reaction. Wanted to go back one butterfly-wing-beat worth of time and change one small, small action. She should want to change a hundred thousand things but she didn't. Just one.

(and it was done).

I watch too much TV - or did

corchen — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 13:17:55 GMT

Empire Magazine's 50 Greatest TV Shows MEME:

1. Bold the shows you watch/used to watch in their first run.
2. Italicize the shows you've seen at least one episode of.
3. Underline the shows you didn't watch when it premiered, but in syndication/DVD/online/etc you've seen most or all the episodes.
4. Post your answers.

50. Quantum Leap
49. Prison Break
48. Veronica Mars
47. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
46. Sex & The City
45. Farscape
44. Cracker
43. Star Trek
42. Only Fools and Horses
41. Band of Brothers
40. Life on Mars
39. Monty Python's Flying Circus
38. Curb Your Enthusiasm
37. Star Trek: The Next Generation
36. Father Ted
35. Alias
34. Frasier
33. CSI: Las Vegas
32. Babylon 5
31. Deadwood
30. Dexter
29. ER
28. Fawlty Towers
27. Six Feet Under
26. Red Dwarf
25. Futurama
24. Twin Peaks
23. The Office
22. The Shield
21. 21. Angel
20. Blackadder
19. Scrubs
18. Arrested Development
17. South Park
16. Doctor Who
15. Heroes
14. Firefly
13. Battlestar Galactica
12. Family Guy
10. Spaced
09. The X-Files
08. The Wire
07. Friends
06. 24
05. Lost
04. The West Wing
03. The Sopranos
02. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
01. The Simpsons

prompt call

corchen — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 01:00:43 GMT

Because my muse is being a cranky little brat and refusing to play nice, I'm taking prompts for drabbles and ficlets, any of the fandoms I write for (or any you know I'm familiar with), femslash or gen. Go wild and crazy with the crossovers if you like or just stick to the tried-and-tested. And... go!

Edit: Probably not taking any more prompts as I have actual fic to write!

'(lady i will touch you with my mind)' (5/?) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, PG-13

corchen — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 21:13:36 GMT

Title: (lady i will touch you with my mind)
Author: corchen
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3,149
Pairing/Characters: HG/Myka
Summary: The day from Myka's perspective.
A/N I know that you're hoping for smut - we're almost there, I promise ;) This chapter is for everyone who begged me so prettily for more - fewthistle, darling, the next part will be entirely for you... ;)
Disclaimer: In no way whatsoever are these guys mine, but I promise to hose them down and put them back when I'm done with them.

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)

***

When Myka woke that morning it took her a moment to realise where she was. It had been so long since she'd woken up in someone's arms - she hadn't realised how much she had missed it. Her first instinct was to cuddle further into the embrace, push her face into the soft shoulder that was pillowing her head. It wasn't, in fact, until she'd done so and taken a deep breath, enjoying the scent of warm skin and yesterday's perfume that she realised where she was - and who she was with. Shit. Helena. And here Myka was sprawled all over her - what was Helena going to say? It escaped her notice, for the moment, that Helena was as much wrapped around Myka as Myka was draped over Helena.

She started to pull away with a mumbled apology - because she couldn't be entirely sure that Helena was asleep, although she certainly hoped that she was - but Helena's arm curled tighter around her shoulders, pulling her further into the embrace. That was when she noticed that Helena was turned into her, that her arm was wrapped around Myka, and that the look on her face, now that her eyes were open, was a sleepy smile.

"It's quite alright, Myka," she said in a voice that was adorably sleep-thickened. Myka fell silent, captivated by Helena's sleepy, affectionate gaze. "You can hardly be held responsible for your actions whilst asleep."

Myka frowned. Maybe she had been asleep, but she had still been all over Helena, and that was hardly proper behaviour between colleagues.

"But I--" She didn't get very far before Helena was interrupting her again.

"No buts," she told her firmly, removing her arm from about Myka's shoulders and letting it fall back onto the mattress as she stretched with a low groan. Myka could feel herself flushing hotly at the feeling of Helena's body moving against hers and she withdrew quickly, looking anywhere but at Helena's form undulating under the covers, and willing herself to think of other things - cold showers and politics and Artie on a bad morning.

"It did not make me uncomfortable," Helena continued. "In fact, you make quite the effective hot water bottle, my dear. Doubtless you will from now on find me creeping into your bed on cold nights to warm myself."

Myka hoped that the involuntary noise she made at the thought of Helena in her bed on a regular basis would be interpreted as indignant and not longing, and she gave Helena a stern look as she climbed out of the bed. She made her way quickly to the bathroom and, closing the door, leaned back against it with a long sigh. This was going to be hell, if Helena insisted on keeping up her flirtations. It would be hard enough keeping her mind on the investigation with Helena simply there, if the other woman kept up those little remarks Myka was going to an absolute wreck before lunch-time.

She was starting to wonder, now, if there wasn't something behind the flirtation. Could Helena actually be - no. That was a ridiculous idea. Why would she be interested in Myka, anyway, even if her interests did lie in that particular direction? It was just part of their cover, and Helena's naturally flirtatious nature. It was ridiculous to assume there could be anything more to it. And not only ridiculous, but that way lay heartache and disaster. She splashed cold water on her face, and gave herself a stern look in the mirror, before shaking her head and dressing hastily.

When she was dressed, she exited the bathroom to find Helena still in bed, and was hit by a sudden urge to throw back the covers and climb in with her. Helena looked so comfortable - lying in her back with her eyes closed, her brows slightly drawn together as if in thought. Myka wondered what was troubling her. The thought didn't last long though, as she was distracted by the creamy swell of Helena's shoulders above the covers, broken only by the slender strap of her night-dress. She really was stunning. Myka gave herself a mental shake, and headed across the room.

"Lazybones," she told her with a teasing grin. "You need to get up - I want breakfast and I don't think I should go down without my loving wife, do you?"

"Probably not," Helena conceded, opening one eye and smiling at Myka. She didn't move though, and Myka, with a grin of her own, moved to the bottom of the bed and took hold of the comforter. When, after a moment, Helena still hadn't moved, Myka shrugged and whipped the covers off the bed.

She regretted doing so almost immediately. Helena's night-dress, which hadn't covered a great deal of her to start with, had ridden up in the night so that it barely skimmed the bottom of her ribs. Myka found herself confronted with Helena's long, slender legs, and the ever-so-slightly concave plane of her stomach. She swallowed hard, aware that her cheeks were rapidly colouring again, and thought to herself that it was patently unfair that Helena's legs really were that long, it wasn't just the boots which she was so fond of wearing.

Oh, God. She was staring. She dropped the comforter back down on the end of the bed and scurried over to her over-night bag, making a show of looking for her hairbrush and hoping that Helena didn't decide to follow the incident with another of her comments because if she did, Myka would probably find herself saying something she would regret. Luckily for Myka, Helena chose instead to chuckle, a low sound that somehow seemed to stroke its way down over Myka's spine, and make her own way into the bathroom. With a sigh of relief, Myka sat back on her heels, hairbrush in hand.

This day was going to be... interesting.

***

As it turned out, it wasn't particularly interesting. Helena, to Myka's great surprise, restrained herself to the lightest of flirtations and kept her touching to the occasional hand-hold. Although even that was enough to set Myka's heart to racing, and she hoped that her palms weren't obviously clammy. It was ridiculous, how much simply admitting that she was attracted to Helena had changed the way she reacted to the other woman. Everything was in such clear focus, magnified almost. She hardly heard anything anyone was saying to them, and hoped Helena was paying more attention than she was.

After a futile morning's questioning they had both agreed to return to their room and go through it themselves - perhaps something would jump out at them, although given that they had no idea what it actually was that they were looking for, Myka didn't have much hope. They had been subjected to more knowing looks as they made their way back to the room and Myka couldn't help but wish that they were actually going to be doing what the staff obviously thought they would be. She wrenched her mind away from that thought quickly - she had already decided she wasn't going to indulge in any more idle flights of fancy, she'd hoped she had got that out of her system the previous night.

"I'll take the bookshelf," Myka said, once they were safely ensconced in the room. It made sense to her that she should look at the books - after all, she probably knew more in that area than Helena did, even with the advantage Helena had of being alive when great number of the books on the shelves were published. Although in this case, that was perhaps a disadvantage. "D'you want to start with the pictures?"

Helena had agreed easily and Myka began to methodically remove everything from the bookcase, noting where things had come from and separating them into piles depending on which shelf they belonged to. She was working on the bottom shelf when she felt it - a hand, running over her behind. She squeaked and straightened, losing her balance as she did so and falling forwards, arresting her fall by grabbing onto the book-case and knocking over a pile of books with her knee. She looked over her shoulder, expecting for some reason to find Helena next to her, but she was still on the other side of the room.

"What--" She said as she looked across the room, thoroughly confused. It hadn't been Helena, then? Well, of course it hadn't. Why on earth would Helena have been feeling her backside, anyway? It was a ridiculous notion - Helena would never be so rude.

"Are you alright?" Helena asked with a look of concern on her face, taking her hands away from the painting she had just been about to remove from the wall and crossing the room towards Myka.

"Yes," Myka said slowly, trying to work out what had just happened. "I'm fine. I just thought..." Maybe she had imagined it - her imagination was working overtime, after all.

"You thought what, darling?" Helena asked, quirking one eyebrow upwards in that adorable way she had.

"Well, it felt like..." Myka let her voice trail off and could feel her blush rising. Helena just stood there, very obviously waiting for her to continue, and after a moment Myka forced herself to go on. "It felt as if someone was touching me, but there was no-one there."

A momentary flash of - was that panic? - seemed to skitter across Helena's face before she spoke again, and Myka wondered what she could be so worried about.

"Where, exactly?" She asked, and was that worry Myka heard in her voice? What did Helena have to be worried about?

"My, ah, my behind," Myka admitted, sure that her cheeks were now flaming.

"Oh," Helena said, and bit her lip, before adding another, quieter, "oh."

What was that about, Myka wondered?

"Oh?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. "And what, exactly, do you mean by 'oh'?"

"I might," Helena said, looking up at the ceiling and also looking extremely guilty "have been contemplating the elegant curve of your 'backside', as you put it. I think we have stumbled upon the artefact we are supposed to be looking for."

What... oh. Oh. The artefact made one person feel what another was thinking? The only thought that crossed her mind at Helena's words was sheer relief. Thank God it hadn't been active last night. Helena might never have forgiven her.

"Contemplating the--" Of course she wasn't really interested, it had to have been idle curiosity. Or... something. "Never mind, I'm not sure that I want to know. Just - don't do it again?"

"I'll try," Helena promised, but it wasn't a moment later that Myka felt hands again, two this time, cupping her backside firmly and tugging her forwards into another body before she felt her lips being covered by another mouth, one that kissed her hungrily.

"Helena!" She gasped. This couldn't be idle curiosity - Helena seemed to actually want her. She was about to close the little gap between them and make the imagined sensation a reality, unable to force herself to remain cautious or sensible, unable to hold back her desire for Helena any longer, when Helena suddenly brought her hands up to cover her face.

"Merde."

Wait, Helena was swearing now? Okay, something actually seemed to be wrong - why was Helena so shaken up by this? It wasn't as if she had actually done anything herself. And it wasn't as if Myka minded either, why if it had been her-- She pushed the thought aside, worried about Helena

"Helena, are you okay?"

"Yes," Helena replied, although her hands were still over her face. "I am merely extremely embarrassed. If you would like to leave me here to continue the investigation without you, I quite understand."

Why would she want that? Helena wasn't making any sense here. Myka was thoroughly confused.

"Helena, I..." She bit her lip, frowning, wondering how she could explain. "I don't - I mean, it isn't all that big a deal, really. It's not as if it's your fault."

"It can hardly be pleasant, though," Helena said, and Myka was struck by the bitterness in her voice. Why was she so upset? "Being touched, even remotely, by someone you have no interest in."

She had moved as she spoke, going to sit on the end of the bed. Her head was bent so that her hair fell down around her face, hiding her expression, but Myka could read the defeat in her slumped shoulders. Oh God, Helena really thought she'd done something wrong - what had happened to her in the past that she was expecting Myka to pull away from her in disgust? Myka's heart went out to her, and not just because she reciprocated Helena's feelings. She crossed the room to Helena, and when Helena took a breath and looked up at her, Myka's heart broke a little for her. Her eyes were full of... shame. And that was an expression that Helena Wells should never wear.

She sat down next to Helena, and reached out to take one of her hands. Helena let her but her hand was limp in Myka's grip. Myka laced their fingers gently together, and Helena's brows drew together in confusion.

"I never said," she said quietly, surprised at how easily the words came, "that I have no interest." She had been so worried about saying almost those very words, and here it was the easiest thing - but perhaps because she could feel how much Helena needed to hear them.

Helena was biting her lip and looking at Myka with the most heart-wrenching expression on her face. Myka tried to put herself in Helena's shoes - how would she feel if, when she had been fantasising about Helena last night, Helena had felt what she was thinking? God. She would just about have died of mortification. And here Helena was in that position - and she had obviously been entirely convinced that Myka couldn't possibly be interested in her.

She gave Helena's hand a gentle squeeze, running her thumb over the tender inside of her wrist, and was pleased when she felt Helena return the grip.

"Do you mean that you..." Helena's voice trailed off unsurely, and Myka smiled shyly at her.

Then she threw caution to the wind and allowed herself to do what she had been thinking of all day - she leaned forwards, slowly, giving Helena every chance to pull back, and kissed her. Helena did not pull back. In fact, she leaned forwards to meet Myka's lips, and her free hand rose to cup the side of Myka's face. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, just a dry press of lips, but it had as much effect on Myka than the most passionate of clinches ever had. Her heart was threatening to beat its way out of her chest, ad when they broke the kiss and separated, she could see from the darkness of Helena's eyes and the rapidity of her breathing that she felt the same way.

"Oh," Helena said, and it was less of a word than a quiet exhalation.

"I've been thinking about that all day," Myka said, blushing, and she looked down at their still-joined hands. "Since last night, actually," she confessed.

Helena's hand twitched slightly in hers, and Myka looked up to see Helena giving her a thoughtful look, one eyebrow raised.

"Since last night?" Helena questioned, and Myka frowned a little at her, wondering where she was going with the question.

"Yes," she confessed, drawing the word out slowly. Why was Helena asking?

"When we were in bed," Helena continued, "and a little before, when you were in the bath?"

"I..." Myka stopped suddenly, the words catching in her throat, as she put Helena's questions together with what had happened a few moments ago, and came to the correct conclusion. Her cheeks flushed a sudden scarlet, and she couldn't meet Helena's eyes any more. She knew how Helena had felt - and more. Oh God, if Helena had felt everything that she had been imagining last night, it was so much more than a simple grope and a kiss. It wasn't even in the same class, was it?

She felt a hand under her chin, making her look up - and when she did so, she saw Helena's eyes sparling back at her.

"Well, then," Helena said, drawing the words out, her voice low and husky, and Myka felt a sudden pleasant rush of almost-fear shoot through her. "I suppose that we are even - although your little fantasies were rather more... intimate than mine." She drew her free hand teasingly up Myka's bare arm, and Myka suddenly realised that the hand under her chin wasn't actually there at all.

"I think," Helena said, still in that slow, sensual drawl, "that I deserve a little 'payback', is that what you would say?"

Myka nodded, although she wasn't sure whether she was agreeing to the question about the word or the idea that Helena should be allowed to get her own back. Her mind was reeling - she was almost dizzy with the possibilities now open to them, now that they had admitted their attraction to one another.

"I am so glad that you agree, darling," Helena said, and let go of Myka's hand, standing up abruptly. Myka looked up at her in confusion, as Helena crossed the room to the armchair that stood by the fire and turned it a little to face the bed.

"Why don't you lie down, darling," Helena suggested, although the tone of her voice gave Myka to understand that it wasn't a suggestion. "Get comfortable."

Myka swallowed hard and did as Helena asked, moving up the bed until she was half-lying on the pillows. She could feel her pulse racing in the side of her neck, in her fingertips, everywhere. She had never been more nervous - or more aroused - than she was right then. If she'd thought she had been in an agony of desire last night it had been nothing compared to this. And Helena hadn't even touched her. Myka thought she knew what Helena had in mind - and couldn't decide if she wanted it or not.

That question was driven out of her mind, though, when she felt Helena's body settle over hers, straddling her hips - although she could see that Helena was still sitting calmly in the armchair, one booted leg crossed over the other, her hand lying relaxed on her knee. How could she look so calm? The weight on her shifted, and she felt lips skimming across her neck before they latched onto her pulse-point, giving a sharp nip. Myka's eyes closed as her back arched, slightly, and she heard Helena chuckle.

"And now," she dimly heard Helena murmur, "it is your turn, darling."

'(lady i will touch you with my mind)' (4/?) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, PG-13

corchen — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 01:06:47 GMT

Title: (lady i will touch you with my mind)
Author: corchen
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,113
Pairing/Characters: HG/Myka
Summary: And now it's time to turn the tables...
A/N sorry about the chapter break, I couldn't resist...
Disclaimer: In no way whatsoever are these guys mine, but I promise to hose them down and put them back when I'm done with them.

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

***

Helena woke slowly the next morning, warm and comfortable and cocooned by the soft mattress below her and the soft comforter above her. When she went to stretch though, she realised that the comforter wasn't the only thing keeping her warm - there was a leg thrown over both of hers, an arm curled loosely about her ribs, and a head tucked into the crook of her neck. Apparently Myka was quite the cuddler - and Helena couldn't quite find the strength of will to extricate herself from the other woman's embrace. Instead, she turned her head to the side to brush her cheek across the top of Myka's head and inhale the warm, slightly floral scent of her hair. Her own arm was flung out to the side, under Myka's neck, and she bit her lip as she allowed herself to cautiously wrap it around her shoulders, pulling Myka ever-so-slightly into her.

Myka mumbled something incoherent, soft and sleepy and her arm tightened around Helena's ribs as she nuzzled into the side of her neck, her lips moving on Helena's skin as she muttered, before she relaxed back into full sleep. Helena shivered. She really should wake Myka. She didn't really have to, though, did she? Was it so very wrong to just enjoy this closeness, innocent as it was, for a little while? With a contented sigh, she let herself drift into a doze, luxuriating in the closeness of the woman she so very much wanted.

She woke again, how much later she couldn't have said, to the sound of Myka's slightly panicked apologies, and the feeling of the other woman withdrawing from her. Still half-asleep, she hardened her grip on Myka's shoulders to stop her from pulling away before realising that was crossing the boundary into inappropriate behaviour.

"It's quite alright, Myka," she said, stifling a yawn, and opened her eyes to see Myka's worried gaze only a few inches from her face. "You can hardly be held responsible for your actions whilst asleep."

"But I--"

"No buts," Helena told her, letting her arm drop back onto the bed and stretching with a luxurious groan. "It did not make me uncomfortable - in fact, you make quite the effective hot water bottle, my dear. Doubtless you will from now on find me creeping into your bed on cold nights to warm myself."

Myka made a small indignant sound and climbed out of the bed, heading into the bathroom to begin her morning ablutions. Helena stretched again, finding a deliciously cool patch of sheets with her toes, and contemplated the day ahead of them. They had to find out what was causing the strange happenings in the room, without arousing anyone's suspicions. Or more to the point, Helena had to find out without arousing Myka's. It was a thorny problem.

"Lazybones," Myka teased when she came out of the bathroom and found Helena still in bed. "You need to get up - I want breakfast and I don't think I should go down without my loving wife, do you?"

"Probably not," Helena conceded with a smile, which was as much for the idea of Myka actually being her wife as for Myka's words.

She didn't move, though, choosing instead to lie against the pillows and smirk up at Myka. Mycka, with an impish grin, grabbed the bottom of the comforter and yanked it off the bed, exposing Helena to the cooler air of the room. From the expression on her face, Helena could only assume that Myka regretted her action almost immediately. Myka's cheeks were rapidly colouring that adorable shade of pink, and it wasn't until Helena realised that she could feel the cool air as far up as her stomach that she worked out why Myka was blushing.

During the night, Helena's already-revealing night-dress had ridden up until it came down only as far as the bottom of her ribs. It was with a rather wicked smile that she thought to herself that it had been perhaps a good thing that she had chosen to wear underwear. Otherwise Myka's blush could quite possibly have competed with the still smouldering fire. As if suddenly realising that she was staring, Myka dropped the comforter that she was still clutching in her hands back down onto the end of the bed, and found something to busy herself with. With a low chuckle, Helena finally vacated her comfortable spot, and made her own way into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead.

When she came back into the bedroom she found Myka sitting in the chair by the fire, paging through the book Helena had been reading the previous night with a look of concentration on her face, lips moving.

"I was not aware that you spoke any German," she said, surprised, and Myka looked up with a slight start.

"Oh, I don't, not really," she said, closing the book and putting it down. "I was just wondering what it was that had you so fascinated last night."

"Have you heard of Democritus?" Helena asked. Myka frowned slightly in thought.

"It's familiar, but I can't say that I remember exactly - you said that was a book on philosophy so I'm assuming he was a philosopher?"

"Yes, from around 400 BC. He was one of the earliest people to have postulated the existence of the atom, so he's often considered to be a scientist rather than a philosopher."

"Fascinating," Myka murmured. Yes, you are, Helena thought, and had to turn away before Myka noticed the look in her eyes.

"Shall we?" She said, motioning towards the door. Even with the charade they had to maintain, it was probably still safer to be in public. At least then she could pass off anything that crept over the boundary from teasing into something more dangerous as simply part of the act.

"After you," Myka said with a smirk, and Helena opened the bedroom door, following her nose towards the dining room. Something smelled absolutely delectable.

***

Asking around about any odd occurrences or items had proven to be entirely futile. Nobody knew anything - or was willing to say that they knew anything. Besides, it was hard to ask probing questions at the same time as keeping up the impression that they were a new couple. Why had Artie decided on that cover for them, anyway? Helena would have to ask Myka if she could find out next time she talked to him - there was no point in Helena asking, after all, the man was hardly likely to give her any answers.

They had spoken to all of the staff - and endured various knowing smirks - but no-one had been able to tell them anything. Or rather, they had learned a great deal about various objects in the room - their age and provenance, their historical import, if any, and so on. The owners of the B&B were very proud of their collection of art and antiques, but although they had been very forthcoming they hadn't actually been able to tell them anything interesting.

They had eventually come to a mutual agreement to return to the room and see if some hunting around could turn anything up. After all, they had been too tired to look for anything the previous evening - and Helena at least had been much too distracted. Now she had to work out what might have had that particular effect - she couldn't think of an artefact that made one's desires manifest physically. And unfortunately she couldn't ask without admitting how it was that she knew what they were looking for.

"I'll take the bookshelf," Myka said, once the door was safely closed, "d'you want to start with the pictures?"

"Of course," Helena agreed easily, walking across the room to begin with the pictures on the wall, lifting the first one carefully off it's hook and turning the frame to look at the back of the canvas. Dismissing it as unimportant (although as an example of Japanese woodblock printing it was rather lovely in its own right) she set it down on the bed and moved to the next. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she found herself momentarily unable to move.

Myka was bending down to pull some items off the bottom of the bookcase, having obviously decided that the best way to proceed was to remove everything, and put it back as she dismissed it. This meant that she was in a rather... revealing pose. Myka had chosen to wear jeans rather than pants that day, and the denim was moulded tightly to her ass. Helena certainly couldn't fault current fashions. What she wouldn't give to be next to Myka, to have the liberty to run her hands over that perfect curve, to...

Myka suddenly squeaked and lost her balance, catching herself with both hands on the bookcase and causing a small book-alanche with her left knee.

"What--" She looked wildly over her shoulder, eyes wide, and Helena frowned at her.

"Are you all right?" She asked, concerned, abandoning the picture she was reaching for and crossing the room to Myka.

"Yes, I'm fine," Myka said slowly, frowning and climbing back to her feet. "I just thought--" She broke off, blushing, and Helena tilted her head to one side with a questioning raise of one eyebrow.

"You thought what, darling?" She asked.

"Well, it felt like.." She trailed off, and her blush deepened. Helena continued to wait expectantly, and eventually Myka cleared her throat and shrugged her shoulders. "It felt as if someone was touching me, but there was no-one there."

Oh no. This was not good. If the artefact was acting on Helena's desires, did that mean that...

"Where, exactly?" She asked, hoping that the trepidation which she felt was not evident in her voice.

"My, ah, my behind," Myka said, now scarlet.

Oh, damn. Now what was she going to do? She hadn't considered the possibility that Myka might be affected by the artefact.

"Oh," she said, rather stupidly. And then, because it was obviously the right thing to say , "oh", again.

"Oh?" Asked Myka, challengingly, narrowing her eyes at Helena. "And what, exactly, do you mean by 'oh'?"

"I might," Helena said, airily, aiming for an air of nonchalance and rather feeling as if she was missing terribly, "have been contemplating the elegant curve of your 'backside', as you put it. I think we have stumbled upon the artefact we are supposed to be looking for."

"Contemplating the--" Myka broke off and screwed up her face. "Never mind, I'm not sure that I want to know. Just - don't do it again?"

"I'll try," Helena said, knowing full well that not thinking about something was almost impossible. Why, not thinking about how much she would love to splay her hands over the firm muscle of Myka's ass and tug the other woman into her as she devoured her mouth would be like--

Her pleasant thoughts were broken into by Myka's outraged gasping of her name.

"Helena!"

Helena covered her face with her hands, feeling that she herself was now actually blushing, which didn't happen often. Then again, it wasn't often that the object of one's fantasies was treated to such a graphic demonstration of them.

"Merde," she said, quietly but vehemently.

Myka, who had never heard Helena swear, even in French, was now slightly worried.

"Helena, are you okay?" She asked, when after a few moments Helena still had her hands over her face.

"Yes," Helena mumbled through her hands. "I am merely extremely embarrassed. If you would like to leave me here to continue the investigation without you, I quite understand."

Myka frowned.

"Helena, I..." She trailed off, and Helena looked up to see her biting her lip. "I don't - I mean, it isn't all that big a deal, really. It's not as if it's your fault."

"It can hardly be pleasant, though," Helena said, rather bitterly, moving to sit down on the end of the bed. "Being touched, even remotely, by someone you have no interest in."

Her head was bent and she was staring at her clasped hands which were resting in her lap. It was one thing to fantasise about Myka, it was quite another to have Myka know about those fantasies - and crush them, as she inevitably would. Helena took a deep breath, and looked up to find that Myka had silently crossed the room and was now standing next to her - was, in fact, sitting down on the end of the bed and reaching across to take one of Helena's hands in hers.

"I never said," Myka murmured quietly, "that I have no interest."

'Untitled' - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, PG-13

corchen — Sun, 30 Jan 2011 19:53:52 GMT

Title: Untitled
Author: corchen
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 672
Pairing/Characters: HG/Myka
Summary: Helena finds herself testing the boundaries of Myka's trust.
A/N Just a little idea that crept into my mind and wouldn't go away. If I ever have time, it may find itself being fleshed out into a complete story, although I think it stands well on it's own.
Disclaimer: In no way whatsoever are these guys mine, but I promise to hose them down and put them back when I'm done with them.

***

"I still can't see how you expect us to get into their circle, we can hardly pass as--"

"Myka." Though quiet, so as not to be overheard, Helena's tone was uncharacteristically firm. Myka fell silent, looking at her with surprise.

"Do you trust me?"

Myka frowned.

"I don't see what that--"

Again, Helena interrupted her, this time with a finger on her lips and an upwards-quirked eyebrow. Myka's eyes widened.

"It is a simple enough question, darling. Do you trust me?"

As Helena's finger was still against her lips, Myka nodded. It wasn't a question she even had to think about - of course she trusted her.

"Then follow my lead," Helena said quietly, "do exactly as I say, and do not say anything yourself unless I am the one speaking to you."

Myka's brows drew together a little in confusion, but she nodded again. Smiling at her response, Helena removed her finger from Myka's lips, and brushed the back of her hand briefly against Myka's cheek.

"That's my girl," she murmured.

Helena opened the door and stepped into the building and Myka followed her. They found themselves in a small entrance hall, wood panelled, with a few low couches against one wall. There was a wooden desk by the other wall, and sitting behind it was a young man who jumped to his feet as they walked in. His eyes flickered across them, taking in Helena's confident stance and Myka, standing a little behind her, biting her lower lip.

He bowed to Helena, an unusual gesture in modern times but one which looked fluid and practised.

"Welcome to le Fouet, how may I serve you?"

"Entrance for two, please darling," Helena said, eyes sweeping over the young man. She smiled at him, and he blushed in response, bowing again, even deeper this time.

"Of course."

As Helena paid the young man, Myka's gaze travelled around the room, taking in the wine-red velvet upholstery on the couches, and the prints on the walls. The subject matter of those prints had her cheeks reddening - oh God. What was she getting herself into? She turned to Helena, set to demand that they give up this ridiculous idea, but the words died in her throat at the expression on Helena's face.

Her eyes were sparkling, her colour was high, and the corners of her mouth were turning up in a deliciously wicked smile. Myka sighed internally, and resigned herself. After all, it was true. She did trust Helena.

Helena stepped through the door on the far side of the entrance hall. Myka followed her, and what she saw on the other side had her eyes widening as far as they could. She found herself standing much closer to Helena than she had expected, drawing courage from the older woman's air of complete confidence. It wasn't as if Myka was a sheltered child - but she had never been to a... Anywhere like this.

"That must be the ladies room just there," Helena said, indicating a door with the familiar silhouette. "Go inside and strip to your lingerie. The young gentlemen informed me that you will find a locker to leave your clothes in. Keep your shoes on, let your hair down, and when you are ready come and find me - I will wait for you at the bar."

"I can't--" The words squeaked out of her throat in protes, and once again Myka found herself silenced by Helena's finger on her lips.

"No arguments, darling. You'll be perfectly safe. Trust me."

Her fingers slipped down Myka's face until she had a gentle but firm hold of her chin.

"Trust me," she said again, before releasing Myka and giving her a gentle push in the direction of the ladies room. She turned towards the bar, not even looking to see if Myka would follow her directions, and Myka swallowed herd, before raising her chin and heading to do as she had been told.

She trusted Helena. The things that really worried her was this - did she trust herself?

'(lady i will touch you with my mind)' (3/?) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, NC-17

corchen — Sat, 22 Jan 2011 22:08:36 GMT

Title: (lady i will touch you with my mind)
Author: corchen
Rating: NC-17, baby.
Word count: 3,463
Pairing/Characters: HG/Myka
Summary: The events of the day from Helena's point of view.
A/N You know, when I started writing this, it was going to be PWP. Then plot crept up on me - it's nice when that happens. That's what comes of discovering your muse - you know who you are.
Disclaimer: In no way whatsoever are these guys mine, but I promise to hose them down and put them back when I'm done with them.

***

Helena had been glad of her 'iPod' on the plane journey. (Such an odd name for a music-player, but then, so many things were odd now that they all seemed to blur into one another and become almost commonplace. Almost.) Myka had been lost in her book, and under pretence of being fascinated with the little device, Helena had been able to indulge in her true fascination - Myka. With her head bent down over her book, Helena could study her profile to her heart's content. Myka was sitting in the window seat - she had offered it to Helena but Helena preferred Myka over any other view, and sitting this way around gave her the excuse that she was merely looking out of the little window, should the other woman wonder why Helena was always looking in her direction.

Myka's face was in silhouette against the light coming in from the window - Helena couldn't keep her eyes from tracing that perfect profile again, and again. She knew it was pointless. Myka had never given any indication that she would be amenable to Helena's advances, and Helena had been burned too many times in the past to be anything but cautious when it came to other women. And it seemed that the subtle ways of ascertaining a woman's interest in you, or otherwise, had fallen into disuse while she had been frozen in time. She valued Myka's friendship too much, in any case, to risk a dalliance that had the potential to go so horribly wrong. Despite the fact that she knew, for herself at least, that it would be far more than a 'dalliance'.

She had developed a true appreciation of the other woman during their time working together. Myka was not only beautiful, but she was intelligent, sensitive, self-assured - but she still had the edge of vulnerability that Helena found so irresistible. Really, Myka was just about perfect. Helena was all too aware that she could fall in love with her, deeply and painfully, if she allowed herself. She wouldn't allow that to happen - but she did allow herself the pleasure of just looking.

The bed and breakfast that they were to stay in was a pleasant surprise - when Myka had sighed happily at the sight of it, Helena had been just as appreciative. There was, to her, something very familiar about the building, and when they stepped inside, that familiarity only intensified. It wasn't quite the way she remembered houses or hotels being, but it was close, very close. It was intensely pleasurable to, for the first time since she woke up, be somewhere that felt so... right. Having Myka there with her only made it sweeter.

And then the woman who met them at the door had misunderstood their relationship - or rather, had been misinformed as to its nature. Helena didn't have time to wonder why that was - Myka had obviously been taken by surprise just as much as Helena had, and by the looks of her she was about to blow their cover. So Helena did what seemed like the most natural thing in the world, and slid her arm around Myka's waist, her heart singing at the chance to indulge herself in something she had never thought might be possible.

She hadn't missed the subtle tensing of Myka's body when she had touched her, but when she had squeezed her gently and made that slightly wicked comment, Myka had relaxed again. Helena drew a silent breath - for a moment, she thought that perhaps she had gone too far, but it seemed that she hadn't. She resolved right then to indulge herself, just for the time they were there, and let her truly flirtatious side come to the fore. She might never have this chance again.

How she wished that the things she was saying to the woman were true. If only she was really at liberty to take Myka to 'their' bedroom and... distract her. What a truly delightful evening that would be. Still, she could let her tongue run free, even if she had to behave when it came to other matters.

The little quip once they had reached their room had been irresistible. She knew that, really, she didn't have an excuse to keep up the charade, but the wicked part of herself that sometimes took over insisted that she should push this, just a little. After all, she would probably never have another chance. And Myka's response, even though it hadn't been encouraging, had at least not been offended. Helena would continue to indulge herself.

While Myka contacted Artie, Helena busied herself with an inspection of the book-case. Like the rest of the furnishings and artwork in the building, very little there was dated much past the end of the Nineteenth Century. It was a little strange to see books she had read when they had been first published, their bindings crisp and bright, now faded and worn - museum pieces, almost, a little like Helena herself. Shaking off the moment of melancholy, she ran the tip of one forefinger gently over the spines of the books, reading the titles to herself. (And eavesdropping, just a little. Myka's rather indignant statement to Artie that neither of them had a problem with pretending to be together was... interesting.)

One in particular caught her eye - a German translation of a Greek work. She'd always been interested in the works of Democritus, but she'd never had a chance to read him - hadn't, in fact, been aware that any of his works had survived.

"This should be interesting," she murmured as she pulled it out from the shelf, opening the covers to inspect the flyleaf. Huh. It had once, apparently, belonged to Sigmund Freud - she wondered how it had come to be in a bed and breakfast in Massachusetts. She would be willing to bet that there was a story there.

Taking the book with her, she made her way to the comfortable-looking chair that was angled towards the fireplace. There was a cheerful little fire burning invitingly in the grate, and Helena was looking forwards to curling up in front of it and exploring the book she had found. And then she just had to make that quip about Myka in the bubble-jet tub, whatever one of those was, and for a moment she was worried that she might have gone too far.

It was true that Myka did look adorable, spluttering for words and blushing a bright red, but Helena worried for a moment that she had overstepped the mark - still, she couldn't take the words back. So she just laughed, and made light of her remark. Despite the fact that, had Myka accepted her offer, she would have been in there within a second. Luckily, Myka seemed to take the flirtatious comment light-heartedly, and Helena managed to hold back her sigh of relief until after the bathroom door was shut. That had been a close call - she had almost gone too far with that comment.

Ten minutes or so after Myka had gone into the bathroom, Helena was startled almost out of the chair by a faint sensation, as if someone had laid their hands on the tops of her shoulders. She looked behind her, but there was no-one there. The sensation didn't disappear though - if anything, it intensified, until it almost felt as if there was a pair of hands resting on her shoulders, kneading lightly. There was no sense of threat or malice to the touch - it actually felt good. Helena frowned. Was this a manifestation of the artefact they were looking for?

Well, it had to be really, didn't it. She sat back down in the chair, carefully, trying to catalogue exactly what it was that she was feeling. She closed her eyes to better interpret the sensation. Yes, hands on her shoulders - not large hands, she thought, probably about the same size as her own - and the hands were actually... yes. Massaging her shoulders, before squeezing the back of her neck and working down her spine. Well, if this was all the artefact did, she would be quite content.

Then, suddenly, the sensation was gone as quickly as it had started. One moment the hands had been there, the next they were gone. It was very peculiar - and, actually, a little disappointing. The hands had been very skilled. Thoughtfully, she picked up the book, which had dropped to the floor when she had first half-jumped out of the chair, and opened it again.

Perhaps ten minutes later, there was another phantom sensation. This time, though, it wasn't gentle massaging - this time, the hands were far more personal, roaming over her body, sliding over every inch of her. And... were they wet? She frowned. This was getting uncomfortable - the massage she had been comfortable with, it had been strange but not intrusive, but this, these wet hands that were stroking her so intimately? It was making her feel... Well, actually, it was making her feel aroused, and her body's response to the phantom hands was almost as disturbing as the hands themselves.

One of the hands tweaked her nipple and her head fell back against the chair as she gave a sharp gasp. Yes, her body was definitely responding to the touches of those hands.

"Stop, please," she whispered, only half-hoping that the hands would obey her. After all, she had no idea what was causing the effect.

The hands continued to caress her for a moment longer, before fading away again. Helena shook her head, trying to clear the fog of arousal from her thoughts as she wondered what it was that had caused the phantom hands. This was obviously the work of the artefact they had been sent to find, but what were they looking for? What was the exact effect of the artefact - was it a horny poltergeist? Did they need to perform an exorcism? Or - was it picking up on her own desires? After all, the hands had been wet, and when she thought of Myka she was definitely aware that the other woman was wet - just a few feet away on the other side of a thin wall. So perhaps it was making her desires into reality.

Frowning harder, she picked up her book and stared at the pages, trying to think. If it was true that the artefact was acting on her own desires, then... How was she going to explain what she had just experienced to Myka? She bit her lip. She couldn't. She just... couldn't. She resolved to find the artefact herself, if she could, and neutralise it without ever telling Myka exactly what had happened. She just couldn't stand for her own desires to destroy their friendship.

By the time Myka came out of the bathroom, Helena had managed to compose herself. Deciding that she wasn't going to tell Myka what had transpired had taken a weight off her mind - she didn't have to think about it, she just had to keep tight control of her feelings, assuming that she was correct in her assumptions. If Myka started to experience any phantom sensations, then Helena would have to rethink her theory but until then, she would just carry on as if nothing had happened.

Myka was an absolute vision, dripping wet and wrapped only in a towel, hair clinging in black curlicues to her neck and shoulders. Once again, Helena couldn't reign in her impulsive tongue, and she hoped that Myka didn't pick up on the wanting that she herself could hear dripping from her voice. Myka blushed even more attractively at Helena's offer to help her with her wetness, and once again Helena wondered if that blush was simply because Myka was uncomfortable with the comment, or because it was Helena who had made the suggestion.

When Myka disappeared back into the bathroom with her pyjamas, Helena shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. She really ought to stop making those little remarks. But it was so much fun, making Myka blush that adorable shade of red. She wondered if Myka would blush again at her own night attire - she had thought it rather scandalous when she had bought it, but as far as she could tell it was quite normal. Besides, she adored the way that the satin felt against her skin, almost liquid, slightly cool.

When Myka came out of the bathroom in her rather adorable striped cotton pyjamas and Helena rose from the chair, stretching she didn't miss the way that Myka stared at her, even though she tried to conceal it. Yes, this was getting more and more interesting. She was beginning to doubt her certainty that Myka wasn't interested in her. And then when she caught sight, out of the corner of her eye, of Myka's response to her night-dress... That was not the way a woman looked at someone she had completely platonic feelings for. Well. She was possibly going to have to rethink her plans.

She slipped into the bed next to Myka, very aware of the nearness of the other woman, and opened her book again. However things between Myka and herself might stand, the book was still fascinating. When Myka sighed quietly and put her own book down, Helena barely glanced over at her as she lay down. She had reached a particularly interesting point in the book and she was rather loath to put it down quite yet.

Of course, her absorption in the book was quickly broken when, perhaps five minutes after Myka had settled down, she felt the phantom touch again. Perhaps it only happened when someone was alone in the room, or at least was the only person awake? If, that was, Myka had fallen asleep that quickly.

It wasn't hands that she felt this time, though, it was lips - covering hers, kissing her with a sweet intensity that had her heart racing. Then she felt the hands again - on her breasts, palming them gently before the fingers skilfully flickered over her nipples. The lips left hers and she bit down on her own lower lip to keep from making a sound as she suddenly felt the fingers at her breast replaced by lips, supple and soft.

She had to keep quiet. Couldn't move. Mustn't wake Myka - even if it felt very wrong to be feeling this when the other woman was asleep less than a foot away from her. She cleared her throat and turned a page of the book, even though she hadn't finished reading it, just to have something to do with her hands. Control, Helena, stay in control.

Myka shifted next to her, moving a little further down under the covers, and Helena glanced over at her, wondering if she was moving in her sleep or if she was actually still awake. Or even if she was feeling what Helena was feeling and was equally unable to bring herself to discuss it. The sensations died away, and Helena took a deep, silent breath, trying to control her racing pulse. This was insane.

Then it was back again. This time she didn't feel as if someone was touching her - it was as if, without moving, her own hands were stroking through hair. Soft, long hair, full of curls. Yes, this really was her desire - it had to be Myka's hair that she was feeling on her hands, it's curls slipping through her fingers, teasing her palms. And then she felt hands in her own hair, and had to bite back the pleasured groan that rose in her throat as she felt fingers scratching against her scalp, combing through her hair.

She closed her eyes and there was a sudden lurch and she felt a peculiar doubling sensation. She was fully conscious that she was sitting in the bed, pillows under her back, but at the same time she felt as if she was somewhere else entirely. There was a focused warmth striking her skin from one side - as if she was sitting near to a fire, perhaps, and another, firm warmth behind her back. She was sitting not on the soft mattress but on a hard surface, and then she felt those hands running through her hair again.

She couldn't help the contented sigh that escaped her, and she turned her head slightly to press into the phantom hands, feeling her cheek rubbing across whatever it was that supported her back. She knew this feeling. She was sitting at someone's feet while they stroked her hair - it had been a long time since she'd been that sort of intimate with anyone, but she remembered it. Trying to make the 'real' sensation fit a little better with the phantom reality, she pulled the pillows behind her back up a little.

The sensation faded after that, and Helena was actually disappointed. It was hard keeping from making any sort of reaction to the sensations she was feeling, that was true, but this would perhaps be the closest she would ever get to having her fantasies of Myka come true. There was no guarantee that the interest she had thought that she saw in Myka's eyes had really been there, or that the other woman would want to act on an attraction she might or might not feel.

Then it was back. A mouth, this time, soft lips that kissed her skin, first the side of her neck, then her belly, her thighs, her breasts - it was everywhere at once and Helena's fingers tightened on the book as she bit down on her lip, trying to keep silent. Then the mouth was at her breast - no, breasts, both at once, wet and open around her nipples, suckling firmly. She bit down harder on her lip, tasting blood in her struggle not to cry out. When the sensation was gone, as suddenly as it had come, she cleared her throat, needing to make some noise even if it wasn't the moan that had almost escaped her, and closed the book.

She couldn't keep up the pretence that she was reading. She was going to drop the book, or accidentally tear it, or hit her head against the headboard - she needed to lie down. Placing the book on the bedside cabinet, she slid down under the covers. Her bare knees brushed the backs of Myka's thigts as she slid down and she almost gasped at the electricity of the innocent contact. She needed to know if Myka was still awake.

"Are you asleep?" She whispered, eyes fixed on the back of Myka's neck, noticing the way that her breath stirred the fine hairs there, just a little.

"Not quite," Myka murmured, her voice low and a little husky with sleep. She sounded like sex. "Good night, Helena."

"Good night, darling," Helena said quietly, before turning over, onto her back.

Then it was back. This time, she could feel the whole of her phantom lover. Knees either side of her hips, weight low across her thighs, hands pressing down on either side of her shoulders. Knowing that there was no-one there, that the mattress wasn't really dipping under the weight of an invisible woman - and Helena was convinced it was a woman - didn't make the sensations any less vivid. She felt lips moving on hers, and allowed herself to kiss back.

If she had ever responded more to a kiss, she could not remember when.

Next to her, Myka shifted in the bed, and Helena's heart went from beating fast to lurching crazily inside her chest. This was insane, this was ridiculous, what was she doing? She should do something, say something, but... The lips left her own and started kissing down the side of her neck and she arched her neck with a soundless gasp, fighting to stay silent. Yes, she should do something - but she couldn't. However wrong this was, it felt so totally right at the same time, and she just couldn't bring herself to do or say anything that might make it stop.

The lips continued their path down her body, trailing over her collar bone, along the swell of one breast and then - they were gone. Everything was gone - Helena was suddenly and completely untouched. They were once more alone in the bed, no ghostly third person was taking liberties with her person. Helena lay there, staring up at the ceiling, eyes wide, chest heaving as she fought to keep her rapid breathing silent.

What was happening? What was causing it? She had to figure this out, and quickly, because if it were to happen again the next night... She didn't know that she would be able to remain silent.

'(lady i will touch you with my mind)' (2/?) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, NC-17

corchen — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 22:39:07 GMT

Title: (lady i will touch you with my mind)
Author: corchen
Rating: NC-17, baby.
Word count: 2,569
Pairing/Characters: HG/Myka
Summary: Myka allows her mind to wander...
A/N My eternal thanks to the ever-lovely fewthistle who, aside from being wonderful in general, makes a very good muse.
Disclaimer: In no way whatsoever are these guys mine, but I promise to hose them down and put them back when I'm done with them.

***

Myka hadn't really enjoyed the bath. She had been too taken up with worrying about her feelings for Helena. So, it wasn't as if she had never found another woman attractive. Her primary interest was in men, sure, but she had always thought of herself as what Claudia would undoubtedly term 'heteroflexible'. It wasn't the fact that she found Helena physically attractive that was bothering her so much, it was that it was such an intense attraction - it was completely inappropriate. They had to work together! How was she supposed to maintain a professional relationship with someone when she was wondering what they looked like under their clothes. Oh God. What did Helena look like?

Never mind that. What did she feel like. What would that perfectly honed body feel like under her hands, would she be all hard muscle or would she have some feminine softness still? Myka couldn't really imagine that Helena would be entirely hard. She let her eyes drift shut as she luxuriated in the bath, just thinking about Helena. For a moment she felt an almost irresistible temptation to call out of the bathroom that yes, there was in fact room for two, and Helena should join her. She smiled at the thought, before shaking her head and sitting up.

She had to stop thinking like that, right now. Had to, because otherwise... Well, it just wasn't professional. And this bubble-jet bath, nice as it felt, really wasn't helping her in maintaining a calm frame of mind. The bubbles were... stimulating. So she turned the jets off, hurriedly washed herself and her hair, and climbed out of the bath, wrapping up in a towel and padding out to find her pyjamas.

Helena was still sitting where she had left her, curled up in a chair with the book. It had turned almost completely dark outside since Myka had gone into the bathroom but rather than turn on a light, Helena had simply turned further into the fire and was reading by it's flickering light. The flames cast a warm glow over her skin bringing out red highlights in her hair. She looked completely content and Myka could imagine her sitting like that a hundred years ago before all of this - the Warehouse, the artefacts, everything - had happened. Back when she'd just been Helena Wells, not Agent Wells of Warehouse 12. Myka wished she had known that person.

She crossed the room to her suitcase and bent down to dig out her pyjamas. She usually slept in a nightshirt but if she was going to be sharing a bed with Helena, she had thought that perhaps cotton pjs would be more appropriate. Helena looked up as Myka crossed the room, and laughed softly.

"You're all wet," she observed, voice just a little crackly from not speaking. The huskiness of it sent a shiver straight down Myka's spine. "Do you need a hand with that?"

Myka blushed bright red and pulled her pyjamas out of the case, turning to shoot a scowl at Helena. Responding to her flirtatious comments had been awkward enough before she'd realised that she was attracted to her. It was going to be pure hell now, hearing Helena saying something like that and knowing that she didn't really mean it.

"No, thank you," she said primly, resolving to simply ignore the blush. It was dark enough and the light from the fire was red enough anyway that she was fairly sure that Helena wouldn't be able to tell. "I can manage fine."

She returned to the bathroom with Helena's filthy chuckle in her ears, and stared at herself in the mirror.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Myka," she commanded herself quietly, trusting to the closed door to keep her voice from carrying. "It's just for one night. You can do this." She was wilfully ignoring the fact that they were booked into the B&B for two nights. They were going to find this damned artefact tomorrow. Anything else just wasn't an option.

"I think I'm going to climb into bed with my book," she said when she came out of the bathroom, only half-looking over at Helena. "I know it's still early but I'm really tired - stay up as long as you like, you won't keep me up."

"I'll probably join you then," Helena replied, climbing out of the chair and stretching, both arms above her head and arching her back, catlike. Myka couldn't help herself - she had to stare. She was pretty sure she'd looked away before Helena noticed, though, and even if Helena had noticed her looking surely she wouldn't have thought anything of it. "Wouldn't want to wake you up later."

"Um, fine," Myka mumbled, studiedly looking down at her book. "Whatever you like."

Helena took her own nightclothes out of her overnight bag and crossed to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a click. Myka flopped back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling. Could this get any harder? Her question was answered a few minutes later, when Helena walked out of the bathroom in her nightdress. It was a spaghetti strap satin affair that barely brushed the tops of her knees, in that shade of sky-blue that she so often favoured. That wasn't Victorian nightwear. If she had thought about it - and she totally hadn't - she had expected Helena to sleep in some long-sleeved, ankle-length, voluminous cotton shift. Not.... That.

And - oh dear. She wasn't wearing a bra, and Myka could quite clearly see the shape of her nipples through the satin. Myka's eyes widened, and she looked quickly back down at her book. No staring. Staring was bad. But the idea of Helena sleeping next to her, wearing that. Myka only hoped she was wearing panties... and that line of thought needed to be squashed. Right. Book. Reading, not thinking about the fact that Helena was climbing into the bed next to her, flashing a length of smooth, toned thigh, ignoring the way the mattress dipped and she could almost feel the heat of the other woman's body next to her.

She managed to concentrate on her book for almost an hour, only half-distracted by Helena's movements next to her as she turned the pages of her own book, before she had to give up. She just couldn't stay interested in the adventures of Thursday Next when she had the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen sitting barely dressed next to her, under the same sheets. With a sigh, she slipped the bookmark in between the pages, and set the book down on the nightstand.

"Good night, Helena," she said, slipping down under the covers and turning on her side, away from the other woman. "Don't worry about keeping me up." She sighed almost soundlessly. I'll barely sleep anyway with you next to me.

"I won't stay up terribly long," Helena assured her, looking over at Myka's turned back. "Sweet dreams, Myka."

Myka could tell the instant she closed her eyes, that sleep would not come quickly. The second she was in that warm dark place behind her eyelids, her mind and body started playing with her. She'd been on edge all evening, but now, eyes closed, feeling Helena's weight and warmth next to her, she couldn't keep her thoughts under control. What would it be like to have Helena, just once, ignoring everything she knew, ignoring the fact that there was no way, even if Helena was that way inclined which of course she wasn't, that Helena would want her. What would those perfect lips feel like under her own, was her skin really as soft as it looked, what would those nipples she had caught a tantalising half glance of feel like hardening against her palms, her lips, her tongue?

Next to her, Helena cleared her throat and shifted slightly, turning a page of her book.

She shouldn't let her mind wander like this, not when Helena was right there, but she just couldn't stop. Besides, what harm could it do? Helena would never know what she was thinking, and perhaps giving in to her fantasies, just once, would get it out of her system. If she let all of those thoughts happen without trying to censor herself, maybe they wouldn't crop up at the worst possible moment. She sighed slightly and wriggled a little further down into the bed, giving in to the inevitable. She couldn't believe that she was fantasising about Helena when she was right there, but there was no point trying to control her subconscious.

Helena turned another page, and Myka wondered, thinking about those elegant fingers delicately lifting a single piece of paper, what they would feel like against her skin. Would she be gentle, tentative, or would she be more forceful? Would she use her nails or just the soft pads of her fingers? She fought the urge to shiver as a prickle ran up her spine at the thought, a wave of goosebumps that ran over her scalp delightfully. God. Helena's fingers in her hair - she could only imagine how wonderful that would feel.

Or her hands in Helena's hair. She'd always wondered if that heavy mass of glossy waves felt as soft and silky as it looked. Now, she longed to spend hours running her fingers through Helena's hair, caressing her scalp, combing out the curls into shiny waves. She could almost feel the warm mass of it against her hands that clenched slightly under the covers, could almost imagine that the smooth sheets she felt were in fact Helena's hair.

She had a sudden vivid image, just a flash, a still-life, of herself curled up in that wingback chair by the fire with Helena on the hearthrug, leaning back against her knees. They were both reading, sitting in companionable silence, and when she reached down to run her fingers idly through Helena's hair, Helena made a small noise of contentment and turned her head sideways to rub her cheek, catlike, against Myka's knee.

Helena sighed quietly and Myka could hear her shifting about slightly, rearranging the pillows behind her back before she settled back again with a satisfied noise that was remarkably similar to the noise Myka had imagined her making just a moment before.

Hm. There were many other noises that Myka would like to hear from her lips. Did she moan or whimper, was she quiet or loud - did she even make any noise at all? Did she gasp incoherently or was she one of those people who could remain irritatingly capable of speech no matter what you did to them? Myka was fairly certain she wouldn't be silent though. Helena was too vocal in her appreciation of things - she even made little moans of happiness at the first mouthful of coffee - to be silent in bed.

She was fairly certain that Helena would be able to make her scream.

And as this was a fantasy, she could imagine that she would be able to do the same. Just because she didn't have any experience out there in the real world didn't mean she couldn't pretend in her head. She longed to map out every inch of Helena's body with her lips. To taste her skin, feel it warm and silky against her lips and tongue, codify each and every one of it's myriad textures. She had never understood the obsession with breasts that seemed to prevail in so many aspects of life, but she did now - she could spend hours just calculating the curve of Helena's breasts. She was assailed with a vivid sense-memory of a mouth on her nipple, of the warmth and wetness and the pulling sensation that seemed to be centered not on her breast but further down, as if there was a line of force from her nipple to her belly, and every sensation was transmitted straight down through her gut to pool low in her groin.

Helena cleared her throat and Myka could feel her moving next to her, leaning sideways to put the book down on the bedside cabinet before sliding down under the covers. Her knees brushed the backs of Myka's thighs as she slid down and Myka almost jumped out of her skin, so sensitised that the innocent touch felt like the most erotic thing she had ever experienced. She bit down on her lower lip not to make a noise.

"Are you asleep?" Helena whispered, and Myka could feel her breath stirring the hairs at the back of her neck and knew that Helena was lying facing her, near enough that her breath could travel the short distance. The thought was intoxicating.

"Not quite," she murmured, shocked at how low and sex-soaked her voice sounded. Hopefully Helena would think it was just sleep. "Good night, Helena."

"Good night, darling," Helena said quietly, before turning over - onto her back, Myka thought.

For a moment Myka was tempted to roll over, just so that she could look at Helena, but thought better of it. She was fairly certain her eyes were glazed over with desire, and she didn't want Helena to see her like that. Besides, she could imagine what Helena looked like, lying there, hair loose and tumbled on the pillows, eyes closed, lips maybe a little parted. She would want to see her from a different angle anyway, not merely from the next pillow over but from above, she would love to have Helena lying like that under her. Wanted to straddle her hips and lean down with her hands planted either side of Helena's shoulders, wanted to kiss her breathless.

She was feeling a little breathless herself.

God, she had to stop this.

She had never been more turned on in her life than she was now, lying there, immobile, every centimeter of her skin blazing with the awareness of Helena next to her. She was literally throbbing - it was almost painful, how aroused she was. She knew that if she was alone, if she was at liberty to slide a hand down into her pyjamas and between her thighs, that it would only take a few moments before she was tumbling over into orgasm. But she wasn't alone, and even if she had thought she could be subtle enough that Helena would never sense the movement, she still wouldn't be able to touch herself with Helena in the bed.

Even if the thought of her own hand bringing her to orgasm while Helena watched sent a stab of wanting through her that was so sharp it felt almost like an orgasm itself.

She clenched her fists and brought her hands up under her pillow, just in case. She hadn't been lying about being tired from the plane ride, and despite her intense state of arousal, she could feel sleep stealing up on her. She could only hope that her body didn't betray her in her sleep - she would never be able to look at Helena again if she ended up molesting the other woman in the middle of the night. She took a deep breath, and tried to calm down, but her mind kept drifting back to Helena - resigning herself, she let it wander. She couldn't have said, in the end, when she went from day-dreaming to actually dreaming.

Helena, however, could have said exactly when Myka slipped into sleep - if anyone had been there to ask her.

004//005

corchen — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 12:41:39 GMT

I have a new pen.
A Parker jotter,
metal barrel,
plastic finger rest,
medium nib.
I bought for it a new refillable ink cartridge
and fed it with Parker Quink blue-black ink.

Now my fingers are stained blue-black too
And I have a page filled with meaningless chicken-scratch musings
Because a new pen is never entirely yours until you have used it for a while,
Tapped it against your teeth in thought,
Twirled it in frustration.
Then set it down on the table with careful anger
Because not having the words you want is not
The fault of the pen and if you
Break it you will only be sad.

The nib does not yet feel smooth against the page.
Funny, that the act of running hard metal against soft paper
Wears away, in the end, not the paper
But the pen.

(Note: Oh, I have no idea. More blank verse. I am lazy when it comes to poetry.)

'(lady i will touch you with my mind)' (1/8) - Warehouse 13, HG/Myka, PG-13

corchen — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 18:58:21 GMT

Title: (lady i will touch you with my mind)
Author: corchen
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,225
Pairing/Characters: HG/Myka
Summary: Helena and Myka find themselves in a rather awkward position.
A/N This is set in the 'Buried and Reset were travesties and didn't happen' universe that we're all so fond of. And if anyone is curious, this is the B&B they stay in, in the Emerson room. Isn't that bed just lovely? And yes, this fic was written entirely so that I could use the title. And because fewthistle likes my work and I like to write for her, so that works out neatly.
Disclaimer: In no way whatsoever are these guys mine, but I promise to hose them down and put them back when I'm done with them.

***

"Myka, I'm sending you and Agent Wells to Massachusetts." Artie sounded distinctly aggrieved as he spoke, glaring at his computer screen.

Myka looked up from the file she was looking through and cocked her head to one side - Helena rather wisely kept her mouth shut. If Artie was referring to her as 'Agent Wells' and talking as if she wasn't there, it probably wasn't the best time to engage him in conversation. Still, at least he was acknowledging that she existed - actually sending her on an assignment? That was a first.

"Pete's still away on vacation and I need Claudia here."

Oh. So he would have sent Pete with Myka if he could - or Claudia. Nice to know that the apprentice was still seen as more useful than she was. Helena sighed silently and pinched the bridge of her nose. Myka shot her a sympathetic look as the movement registered out of the corner of her eye, and then turned her attention back to Artie.

"Why?" She asked. "What's happening?"

"There have been some reports from a bed and breakfast," Artie continued, "that seem to imply that there's an artefact at work. It all centers around one room in particular, so I'm booking the two of you in for a few days - I'm afraid you'll have to share as the budget won't stretch to two rooms, that place is utterly exorbitant."

He tilted his chin down and looked at them over the top of his glasses - including Helena for the the first time.

"I hope that won't be a problem."

Myka shook her head, and Helena lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug.

"Not at all," Helena said. "I often shared a bed with my fellow agents when we were travelling."

Myka's brows shot up towards her hairline. A bed? Surely Artie only meant that they would be sharing a room. She frowned questioningly at him.

"Yes, you'll be sharing a bed - the Hawthorne doesn't appear to have double rooms. You should feel quite at home, Agent Wells," he said, actually directing his gaze at Helena for more than a few seconds. There wasn't even more than a hint of rancor in his gaze, either. Perhaps, Helena thought with a tinge of disbelief, he was actually starting to think that she might not be entirely monstrous. "The whole place is decorated with antiques - I doubt there's anything in the building that dates from much later than 1900."

Helena smiled wryly at him. Well, he was being pleasant, after a fashion, but did he have to do it by drawing attention to her oddities?

"I'm sure I shall feel quite comfortable," she assured him politely, with a warm smile that he almost returned, before he turned back to his computer muttering about reservations and exorbitant room rates and why did the artefact effects have to be based around the most expensive room anyway?

Myka was staring rather resolutely at the wall, the faintest hint of a blush tinting her cheeks. Helena pursed her lips slightly as she looked at her, wondering what Myka could be thinking to cause that sort of expression. She was sure that it was most interesting.

Myka was, in fact, a little perturbed by the idea of sharing a bed with Helena. Something about the idea of having the other woman so close - near enough to touch, in fact - was a little discomfiting. It wasn't as if she was unused to touching Helena either - the other woman could be very tactile at times. But something about sleeping next to her... And why did that matter? It was just Helena. She shook her head with a little grimace, trying to clear her mind of the uncomfortably vague thoughts, and attempted to return to her work.

***

They arrived at the B&B early the next evening, after a pleasingly uneventful journey. Myka had taken the chance to catch up on her reading (she'd been stuck on book three of the Thursday Next series for over a year now, and really wanted to know just why 'Something Rotten' was supposed to be Fforde's best book). Helena had spent a large proportion of the plane ride listening to her iPod - a gift from Claudia who had been shocked that she didn't have one.

When the taxi pulled up outside the B&B, Myka had been unable to keep in the small sigh of pleasure that escaped her at the sight of it. Artefact or not, the building was lovely - pale stone and wood in gorgeously green grounds. Helena shot her a smile.

"Lovely, isn't it?" She said, and Myka nodded.

"Just gorgeous," she agreed. "This is one assignment I'm sure I'm going to enjoy." Even if Artie had been curiously reticent when it came to explaining exactly what they were looking for, saying only that he was 'sure that it would be perfectly obvious'.

They were met by one of the proprietors of the inn, who smiled at them as she cross-checked their reference. Everything was going smoothly until she looked across at the with a particularly big smile, and a slightly wicked twinkle in her eyes.

"By the way, congratulations - would you like me to bring up your complimentary tea or coffee, or would you rather be left alone? I know I didn't want to think about anything so mundane as coffee when I was on my honeymoon!"

Myka froze, still unbending from the register with the pen in her hand. Honeymoon? What the... Why would she think that? Was this part of their cover? Had Artie said that-- Her frantic train of thought was broken when Helena stepped neatly up beside her and slipped her arm around Myka's waist.

"Oh, I think we'll be fine left to our own devices," she drawled, voice just a few notes lower than usual. "I'm sure we can think of something to occupy ourselves." She gave Myka a gentle squeeze. "Don't you think, darling?"

It was all Myka could manage just to nod - she was too shocked to manage anything else. Not so much at the idea of posing as a couple - that was a fairly standard cover - but because it was Helena. They had never spoken about sexuality, after all it wasn't exactly an appropriate topic of conversation in the work-place, and out of the work-place, it had just never come up. But although they had never spoken about it, she hadn't expected Helena - a product, after all, of the Nineteenth Century - to have been comfortable with the idea of same-sex relationships. After all, hadn't she once read that the reason lesbian relationships had never been illegal in Britain was because no-one could bring themselves to explain it to Queen Victoria? And the Victorians had been notorious prudes. So to hear Helena not only being totally unfazed by the idea but in fact embracing it - well. It was a little odd, to say the very least.

Helena broke Myka's confused thoughts again, by chuckling in her ear - and sounding remarkably filthy. How had she not known that Helena had a dirty laugh? Her cheeks reddened - this conversation was giving her the most inappropriate thoughts.

"I think she's still just a little distracted," Helena chuckled. "If you'll excuse us, I think perhaps I should take her upstairs and distract her a little more."

And apparently, she had a dirty mind as well. The woman checking them in laughed and took the forms from Myka with a wink.

"You do just that. If we don't see you in time for breakfast, just pop by the kitchen and we'll come up with something."

"Thank you," Myka managed, past her blush.

They followed the woman along the hallway to their room, and stepped inside. She gave them a wink, and shut the door. Myka covered her hands with a groan, shaking her head.

"I'm going to call Artie," she mumbled past her hands, "and tell him that next time he pulls something like this I'm going to kill him."

"Oh dear," Helena said over her shoulder, crossing the room to inspect the book-case. "Am I really that bad a prospect? My heart is breaking." Her mock-sorrowful tone was absolutely ridiculous, and Myka rolled her eyes at her back.

"Very funny," she told her as she pulled out her Farnsworth.

Artie, when he answered, was wearing an expression of studied innocence. Myka glared at him.

"Explain," she demanded.

"Explain what?" Artie asked, as if he didn't know exactly what.

"Artie!"

"Ok, ok, fine. So, everyone who's been affected so far has not only stayed in that room, but they were all married couples. That's why I wanted to send Pete, really - and why it wouldn't have been exactly convincing sending Claudia. So I'm very sorry that you and Agent Wells are having to pose as a couple, but if either of you has a problem with it - well. Don't, that's all."

Myka sighed and rolled her eyes at him. Why had he been so secretive? He could have just told them - at least then she would have been prepared. Besides, would the artefact even have any effect on them, given that they weren't married - weren't anything, in fact.

"Neither of us has a problem," she said. "But I don't see that just pretending to be a couple is going to make the artefact manifest."

"Oh, I'm fairly sure that it will," Artie said mysteriously. "Or rather, Mrs Frederick is sure that it will, and that amounts to much the same thing."

"You're still not going to tell me what we're looking for, are you?" Myka said with a long-suffering sigh.

"I'm afraid not," Artie told her. "It should be patently obvious. Have a good night."

With that, he disappeared, and Myka was left to scowl at the Farnsworth. Damn Artie. Why did he have to be so mysterious? It was as if he was enjoying teasing her - and that little smirk on his face as he signed off was rather worrying.

"Oh, this should be interesting." Helena had been muttering to herself on the other side of the room as she went through the bookshelf, and was now making her way to the overstuffed armchair next to the fire with an old book in her hand.

"What's that?" Myka asked, slightly distracted by worries about just what the artefact was that should be 'patently obvious'.

"German translation of a Greek philosophy work," Helena said, sitting down and curling up in the chair with her feet tucked under her. "I think I shall disappear into this book for a little while, and then get an early night. I'm sorry that we can't leave the room and maintain our little act of marriage - I'm afraid you'll have to stay cooped up with me."

"That's fine," Myka smiled. "Although if you're going to get lost in a book, I think I'll take a bath. I feel all grubby from the plane and there's a bubble-jet tub."

"Sounds divine," Helena said, looking up from her book. "Is there room for two?"

Myka's mouth dropped open, and she could feel her cheeks burning. She spluttered slightly, Helena chuckled, and there was that dirty laugh again.

"You should see your face," she said. "Go and take your bath, darling, Democritus and I will be waiting for you when you've finished."

Myka glared at Helena - the effect of which was muted by the fact that she somehow couldn't bring herself to be annoyed at the other woman's flirtations - and headed into the bathroom. What had come over Helena, anyway? She'd never made that sort of suggestive comment before. It must just be her way of reminding herself not to break cover. Yeah, that must be it. With her mind reassured, she span the taps on and puttered around the bathroom finding toiletries and towels and stripping off, folding her clothes neatly on the counter and realising with annoyance that she had left her pyjamas in her suitcase. Oh well, she could collect them in a towel. Helena wouldn't mind. Actually, given those comments, she would probably - no, Myka. Not going there.

With a pleasurable sigh, she lowered herself into the steaming hot water, and turned on the jets. God, that felt good. It hadn't been a long plane ride but the seats in coach were not comfortable, and her back was tight. The jets felt wonderful against her tired muscles - although she would have enjoyed warm hands more. She couldn't stop herself from wondering if Helena gave a good back-rub.

What the hell was going on in her head?

Time to be rational. Helena was a very attractive woman - there was no way she could deny that. She was beautiful, and slender, and her legs went on for miles and her mouth was a study in perfection. Wait, had she actually studied those lips, to know that? Looking back on it, yes, she had. She'd studied most aspects of Helena Wells - without quite realising that she had. Crap. Oh, crap, crap, crap. She had a fucking crush, a teenage, grade-school crush. And now she had to share a bed with the object of her recently-admitted desires. Well now. Wasn't that going to be fun.

003//003

corchen — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 10:46:14 GMT

Writers Block

(which I do not have or I would not be writing this)
Is that feeling when you look at a blank screen or page
And the only thought that comes into your mind is
'Ah. So this is what no feels like.
A pity I have achieved not enlightenment
But merely frustration.'

(Note: One day I will write something other than blank verse. Today is not that day.)

002//002

corchen — Sun, 16 Jan 2011 12:21:04 GMT

Comfort. Trust. Friendship.
Desire. Longing.
Doubt.

Fear.

Love.

Home.

(Note: Not even really sure this counts a poem, but it's words making a poor attempt at expressing something, so I'm going to say yes.)

100 poems, 100 days - 001/001

corchen — Sat, 15 Jan 2011 13:42:39 GMT

So, there's a challenge community, the aim of which is to write a poem a day for a hundred days - or rather, a hundred poems over the course of a hundred days, possibly none on some days and more on others. I'm not joining the community, but I am going to attempt the challenge. Starting now. Some poems will be long, some will only be a few words. Feel free to skip these entries.

Day 001 // Poem 001

Inked.

I have always carried words in my heart.
There is something powerful about language,
About its forms and shapes and flow.
Language is beautiful.
It is simple and complex
And can mean everything or nothing at all.

To carry words in my skin, though
Indelibly inked and unchanging
That is a new expression of love.
Not just for words,
Or their meaning,
But for everything, and nothing at all.

(Notes: Just a little blank verse to start off.)

Quick question

corchen — Sat, 15 Jan 2011 13:28:06 GMT

So, what's the best free antivirus software these days? Still avg or avira, or is there a new contender?

Hi there

corchen — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 22:01:50 GMT

So, there are a lot of people watching this lj, it seems - and I don't seem to know any of you! If you're just here for the fic, that's awesome, but why not introduce yourself? Or, hey, if you're someone I know but I haven't friended you back because you got lost in the spectators, poke me!

In other words, hi. I'm Corchen - who are you?